


perhaps we're just humans

by hiraethia



Series: the foxhole port [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Fantasy, Healing, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mermaids, Pirates, Recovery, Slow Burn, arghh swash swash buckle buckle, good ol crime-esque syndicates, mermaid!Neil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 02:14:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 97,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12694959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiraethia/pseuds/hiraethia
Summary: the wesninskis are the most dangerous breed of mermaids in the seven seas. so naturally, the foxes unwittingly sail right into their territory.





	1. there be monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> andrew doesn't believe in monsters - not when he's seen and survived them himself already. nathaniel does believe in monsters - especially because he's one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: references to andrew's past, allusions to violence

Legends said that any sailor brave (or rather, stupid) enough to sail into the Forbidden Waters never survived to tell the tale. To that, Andrew Minyard replied, "Then where did that story come from?"

Kevin looked up from where he was focusing on cleaning his sword, glaring at him. "Don't be stupid, Andrew. Don't you know what's in those waters?"

"God forbid there be actual fish there," Andrew snapped. To his left, Aaron rolled his eyes and went back to playing with his broken compass. Kevin's green eyes only widened, before narrowing in annoyance.

"The Wesninskis," he spat, fingers tightening around the cloth he was holding. "Does that name ring a bell to you?"

Andrew pretended to think, tapping on his chin twice before dramatically sighing and shaking his head. "I don't believe in ghost stories, Day."

"They're not a ghost story." Kevin stared at him for a moment longer, before throwing aside his rag in frustration and sheathing his sword. "I can't believe you."

"What's going on here?" Dan's voice blared from behind Andrew. Behind her was Renee, who gave Andrew a sweet smile when she noticed him watching. Andrew only slightly tilted his head to greet her back, but Renee took the gesture like it was a bag of gold anyways. 

"Nothing, Captain," Aaron replied sarcastically, finally closing his compass with an irritated sigh. "Kevin's just trying to tell us his ghost stories again. Those birdbrain Ravens really must've messed up his head."

Kevin blanched while Dan bristled, crossing her arms and frowning. It was mostly agreed upon throughout the Foxes to never mention Kevin's background of sailing with the _HMS Evermore_ , but there were still a select few crewmates who didn't care. (Not to name names or anything). 

It had truly been a surprise when the _Palmetto Foxhole_ had found Kevin Day, first mate of the legendary Riko Moriyama, drifting, unconscious in the ocean, on a piece of broken wood with a mangled left hand. It was even more surprising that Kevin had agreed to join the Foxes, the scrappiest crew in the Caribbean, without an argument. Andrew had found Kevin's arrival to be the most interesting thing that had happened during his years sailing with Coach Wymack (for some reason he preferred the title 'Coach' over 'Captain,' which was eventually snagged by Dan instead). After all, his emotions had been reduced to a straight, flat line after his time sailing on the _St. Josephine_ (a cruel joke in hindsight, considering his middle name) with Drake and the rest of his crew. It was by pure luck that Andrew had managed to escape that hellhole along with Aaron and Nicky when the _Palmetto Foxhole_ had captured the _St. Josephine_ in a raid, and ever since Andrew had been sailing with the Foxes. 

He had days still where he woke up with Drake's breath ghosting across his ear, days where he couldn't quite manage to let go of his knives for fear that somehow his captor was still alive and roaming the decks, looking for _AJ, AJ._ He had days where the ocean looked more tantalizing than the floor beneath his feet, days where he stood a bit too close to the edge of the ship. 

So with Kevin's arrival came the first spike of interest in Andrew's life for...a long time. He'd struck a deal with Kevin his first night with the Foxes, morbid curiosity twisting his lips into a strange, demented smile while Kevin looked on with wide eyes.

_Give me a reason not to throw myself into the ocean tomorrow, Raven, and I'll keep you safe from your captain._

Kevin had agreed without a second thought.

Someone settled down beside Andrew, and his hand immediately jumped to the knife strapped to his hip. Then he relaxed when he noticed it was only Renee, and only then did he register Dan's callous voice again. 

" - has seen things and you should know that, Aaron. He wouldn't just spout stories for the fun of it. And besides, you'll believe in a Fountain of Youth but not the slightest possibility that those mermaids could be dangerous?"

Aaron shrugged, hazel eyes flicking to Andrew. "We have no reason to be scared of those things," he only said, before averting his gaze and tossing a bottle of rum to Kevin. Dan stared hard at Andrew, who glared back at her with as much soullessness that he could possibly muster. She sighed, shaking her head.

His brother was right, Andrew wanted to, but didn't say. With all the _real_ monsters that had been in their pasts, why should they be scared of a couple fish people?

Renee broke the tense silence first. "It's getting dark early," she said, pointing at the cloudy sky. "Do you think there's a chance a storm is coming?"

"The winds do seem colder," Kevin mumbled, having already drained half of the rum. 

"We'll keep sailing," Dan said shortly. "Coach's orders."

"If we get killed in a maelstrom, that's on you," Aaron grumbled, hissing when Dan cuffed him on the back of the head.

"Get off your ass and help Matt with the helm, you useless pile of bones," Dan snapped. Andrew leveled another glare at her as Aaron got up, swearing under his breath but still following Dan's orders. "And you too, Andrew. Make yourself useful," she added after noticing his stare.

"Andrew, would you like to help me and Coach plan out tomorrow's route?" Renee asked sweetly. 

"If we keep sailing at this speed, we'll be in Haling Cove by afternoon tomorrow," Andrew answered flatly.

"Come on." Renee stood up, offering Andrew a hand that he didn't accept. He followed her down the stairs below decks into Coach's cabin, letting the door swing shut behind them. 

\-- 

Nathaniel Wesninski's life was anything but legendary when considering his family line; it was nothing short of a sick joke. From the very start, he'd been raised to become a hunter by his father's closest allies. The Butcher of the Caribbean was a name uttered with terror by every learned sailor around, and Nathaniel had the pleasure of being the Butcher's son and top hunter. 

And now here was the worst part - the punchline to the sick joke: Nathaniel was dying. 

Well, more specifically, his breed was dying. 

Mermaids were one of the most coveted treasures of the seas besides gold. All over the world, pirates and merchants captured any mermaids they could find to skin them of their scales and sell them in jewelry, medicine, and potions. 

The only reason Nathaniel, and anyone from the Butcher's empire survived, was because he'd been trained from the day he was born to _kill before he himself was killed._

Nathaniel hated his life. He hated that he was one of the first mermen to swim up to the surface of the ocean, to lure in the unfortunate sailors that were foolish enough to brave these Forbidden Waters. He hated that he was the one to drag the sailors into the water after luring them in for an enchanted kiss, he hated that he was the one who took them to his father to take apart. (If they were lucky, his father would sometimes spare them by turning them into a merperson and forcing them to join his empire - well, maybe not so lucky after all).

He didn't have a choice, though. Rebelling meant certain death - either by the Butcher, by his people, or by the pirates looking for his breed. His blood, as a Wesninski, would be worth so much more.

So Nathaniel swam about in the depths of the ocean with Lola at his side, staring up at the watery surface as they waited for any sign of a passing ship. The sky above was dark already, the stars shining brightly enough to penetrate into the depths of the sea. 

They swam there for about two more hours before Lola darted toward Nathaniel, who barely managed to resist flinching.

"Do you see that?" she hissed in a garbled voice, pointing upward. Nathaniel followed her hungry gaze, and his heart dropped when he spotted the familiar outline of a boat trailing through the waters. 

Lola's dark eyes were shining with unrestrained glee. There was a sick smile on her face as she pushed Nathaniel's shoulders. 

"Time to shine, Junior. Make us proud," she chirped.

"You're not coming along?" Nathaniel asked, feeling ill already.

"Not yet." Lola twirled around in the water, sending a trail of bubbles upwards from her coppery tail. "Daddy and I have some unfinished business to attend to. Go along now, though. I'll be watching."

Nathaniel only hesitated for a few seconds before he swam toward the surface, leaving Lola behind in the depths and keeping his pace slow enough that he didn't immediately startle the unsuspecting sailors.

He wished he could warn them to turn back now, before it was too late, but he never could. Not when Lola or someone else was watching. 

He always let them sail on for about ten minutes, following them. He would listen to their muffled voices, pushing aside the sickness swirling in his gut. Sometimes they would be singing, sometimes they would be taunting. After all, everyone knew these were the Forbidden Waters, but they never truly believed it.

Ten minutes passed. He heard only two voices, and while that made his job even easier, Nathaniel still felt sick to his stomach. These sailors were conversing quietly, obviously looking for something. Gold, maybe. A mermaid, probably. 

Nathaniel swam closer. He dipped below, purposely bumping his shoulder against the bottom of the boat before darting away quickly. 

"What was that?" a low voice demanded.

The second one filled in, "Do you think - Michael, what are you doing?" 

Michael answered, "Getting a weapon, stupid."

"But - "

Nathaniel surfaced. The first sailor had his back turned toward him, and the other one was staring straight at him: young man who looked to be Nathaniel's age, with dark brown hair and gray eyes. His eyes widened comically when he spotted Nathaniel, and his jaw dropped when Nathaniel swam close enough that he could rest his elbows on the edge of the boat.

The one with the weapon, Michael, immediately turned around. His breath left him in a shuddering gasp, and he raised what looked like a dagger to strike Nathaniel. He pulled away, watching intently as the young man wrestled Michael to drop the dagger.

"Stop it! You'll scare him off!" he hissed, finally getting Michael to drop the knife. Nathaniel swam a little closer, tilting his head to the side. 

"What are you doing out here?" Nathaniel asked, keeping his voice as soft and sultry as possible. Michael's eyes widened, but the young man just crawled over to where Nathaniel was. 

"We - uh..." the man looked toward his crewmate, who looked petrified. Then he glanced back at Nathaniel, wetting his lips. "Just exploring the waters. Looking for some land. Our ship - we've been sailing for days."

Nathaniel rested his hands against the edge of the boat again, just a few inches from the man's. "What's your name?"

"J-Joshua." 

"Joshua," Nathaniel repeated. He fluttered his lashes, resting his cheek against his hand in the way that Lola had taught him. _Look pretty, and they'll come to you, no matter who they think they are_.

It seemed to work. Michael looked less like he was about to murder Nathaniel, and Joshua looked like he was contemplating touching Nathaniel's hands.

"Y-You...are you - " Joshua stuttered off when Nathaniel flicked his tail upwards to answer his question. 

"God have mercy," Michael whispered.

"I can show you the way to the closest port," Nathaniel said softly, keeping his eyes on Joshua's. "If you'll just come with me."

"I-I - " 

Nathaniel pushed himself upwards so he was eye-level with Joshua. "I heard that if you kiss a merman, you'll be able to breathe underwater."

Joshua's eyes were already flickering down toward Nathaniel's lips. "Did you now," he repeated hoarsely, and Nathaniel felt his heart twist. Lola should be coming about now; her work with the Butcher, whatever it was, never took that long. His father probably just needed her to dispose of a few of his loose ends. 

His calculations were right. Out of the corner of his eye, Nathaniel saw the familiar copper of Lola's tail, and he knew she would be targeting Michael. So he turned his full attention toward Joshua again, and smiled sweetly.

"Yes. Would you like to try?" he whispered. Joshua's eyes were wide and his cheeks red as he started leaning toward Nathaniel. Slowly, Nathaniel started drifting back downwards, reaching upwards and lacing his fingers through Joshua's hair to tug him down with him. He remained close enough with the sailor that their lips nearly brushed, but not quite.

Finally, Nathaniel was submerged in the water, the only thing separating him and Joshua being an inch of space as Joshua continued to hover above him. Nathaniel closed his eyes, briefly enough so that the icy blue could melt away into piercing yellow, and his teeth would grow into fangs. 

He opened them again, and the terror and realization spreading across Joshua's face was a brutal stab to the chest. Nathaniel hoped the sailor would hear his apology in the shrill scream of his voice as he dragged Joshua down into the depths, his claws slashing across the sailor's chest and skin.

(Nathaniel hurt only to incapacitate, not kill. That was an honor saved for the Butcher).

Joshua's screams were muffled in the water as Nathaniel plunged with him back into his father's realm. The sailor's blood that stained the water was as crimson red as Nathaniel's tail.


	2. hunters and huntresses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a storm is brewing. andrew plays peacekeeper (somewhat), and nathaniel grieves for a certain huntress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so so much for your support!! <3 <3 your comments made me so happy and i hope you guys enjoy this chapter :) 
> 
> no warnings for this chapter, i don't think. there is vague discussion about kevin's past and some injuries but nothing major.

Andrew was woken up that night by quiet whimpering. He stared at the darkened ceiling, the only light being the lantern in the corner of the room. Rolling out of his hammock, Andrew squinted against the darkness to find the source of the noise.

Unsurprisingly, it was Kevin.

Sighing, Andrew strode over to where his crewmate was twisting and turning in his sleep. He leaned over Kevin, hissing in his face. 

"Kevin. Wake the hell up." When Kevin kept whimpering in his sleep, Andrew rolled his eyes and shoved at the taller man's shoulder. The harsh motion sent Kevin toppling out of his hammock and onto the floor, but at least Kevin was awake now.

"Andrew? What's going on?" Nicky murmured sleepily.

"Nothing." Andrew focused on where Kevin was struggling to regain his bearings on the ground. "Ah, look who's awake now," he said dryly when Kevin turned bleary green eyes toward him. 

"A-Andrew," Kevin breathed. Andrew felt his own lip curling at the raw relief in Kevin's eyes. No one had ever looked at him like that before, and he certainly did not want to start with _Kevin Day._

"Get up. We are going outside." Andrew left without waiting for Kevin, knowing that he'd be right behind him anyways. He only stopped by the cellar to grab a bottle of liquor before heading up the stairs, shrugging on his coat to shield himself from the frigid ocean winds.

Seth was on navigating duty tonight, completely ignoring Andrew and Kevin as they entered the main deck. Matt, on lookout, gave them a cheerful wave that wasn't returned.

Andrew led Kevin to the side of the ship, opening the bottle and taking a large swig before handing it over. Kevin took it in shaking hands, shivering as a gale ruffled the sails and elicited a string of vicious swearing from Seth. 

Kevin had drained half the bottle before Andrew said curtly, "Talk."

Glancing at him with glazed eyes, Kevin cleared his throat and shakily lowered the bottle. "I-I had a nightmare. About Riko."

If Andrew could laugh, he would.

"Have you forgotten my promise?" he asked instead, leaning over the railing and gazing at the ocean beneath. It looked like tar in the blackness of the night. 

"N-No," Kevin began, though his gaze was now trained on the silvery scars running up his left hand. The Foxes' nurse, Abby, had managed to patch Kevin up well enough that he wasn't permanently crippled, but he still couldn't hold a sword with his left hand like he'd been taught to his entire life. 

Andrew huffed. "Then you know that I am a man of my word, and I will not let that birdbrain touch you."

"But - "

"Do I lie, Kevin?" Andrew snapped. 

Mercifully, Kevin fell silent. Satisfied, Andrew reached over and snatched the bottle out of his loose grip. "Enough mental breakdowns for today. Go back to sleep, Day."

"He'll still come after me," Kevin whispered, nervously tugging at his billowing sleeves.

"I will break his neck." 

"The Moriyamas aren't just people you can kill, Andrew," he murmured. "They're much more powerful than that."

"Do tell," Andrew said blithely.

"They're trying to control the seven seas. They want to take the oceans for their own kingdom." Kevin wiped at his mouth, eyes still glazed over and hands still trembling. "They're succeeding."

Andrew retorted flatly, "How would you know that. You only sailed on their second ship."

Kevin's face shut down, but Andrew's words were true, no matter how callous. The only thing Andrew knew for certain about the Moriyamas was that they had two main ships that led their fleet: the _HMS Evermore,_ and then the _Raven King._ Andrew knew from Kevin's stories and talk among other sailors that Riko Moriyama, the second son of the infamous, legendary, (insert all the most threatening-sounding words here, blah blah - Andrew didn't care) Kengo Moriyama, captained the less important ship, the _HMS Evermore._ His brother, Ichirou Moriyama, was first mate to Kengo Moriyama aboard the _Raven King_ and the heir to the entire Moriyama empire once his father died. 

Kevin had said that Riko was always touchy about being the captain to the lesser ship, and that once Kevin had started showing his potential and attracting attention from the main branch, Riko had destroyed his left hand in a rage. He'd dumped Kevin into the ocean with only a piece of driftwood to keep him afloat. It was by some miracle that Kevin was found by the Foxes before he'd died from the cold or drowned. 

Andrew's words were true because Kevin had never spoken with anyone from the main branch before, not even when he was beginning to outshine Riko. All the things Kevin heard about the ever-so elusive Ichirou and Kengo Moriyama were things Riko had fed him - and Riko had wanted to keep Kevin as second-best. So logically, Riko had been lying to Kevin to scare him into obedience. 

Andrew only voiced that much, but Kevin still shook his head. "Riko wouldn't lie. Not about that. He wants the captaincy of the _Raven King_ too much to lie about it."

"Paranoia and lies, Kevin." Andrew hardened his voice enough to shut him down, tapping his fingers against the wooden railing. "Now get lost. In your hammock or the ocean, I do not care."

Huffing in annoyance, Kevin turned away from Andrew and started back downstairs. Andrew stayed outside for the rest of the night, knowing he'd be unable to go back to sleep anyways. He watched the sun slowly crawl up in the sky, setting it briefly on fire before dimming again. His nose felt slightly numb from the cold, and Andrew flexed his fingers to regain feeling in them again. 

He heard footsteps behind him, but they were too light to be Aaron's or Nicky's. "Renee," he greeted flatly without looking behind him.

"Hello, Andrew. Woke up early?" Renee said warmly, leaning against the railing next to him. 

"Duty called," Andrew replied, shooting a glance in Kevin's direction. Renee's eyebrows furrowed in understanding, though her smile never lessened.

"If you feel tired, you're welcome to rest. Dan won't mind, not if you were taking care of Kevin," she said, to which Andrew answered with a bored stare.

"I do not need kid glove treatment, Christian girl," he said without much venom, eyeing the cross necklace dangling from Renee's neck. She smiled again.

"I just talked to Coach," she said, wisely changing the subject. "He wants to put you and me back on navigation for the time being, at least until we get to Haling Cove and trade. Is that alright with you?"

"Fine." Andrew didn't want to talk with any nosy merchants, anyways.

"Perfect. Come with me to the cabin? Coach wants to call a meeting to discuss our next destination."

Andrew shrugged, but Renee's slow smile told him that she knew he would come anyways. She pushed off of the railing, turning to greet a grumpy Allison who had just woken up.

They all gathered in Wymack's cabin an hour later. It was spacious enough that it could accommodate the entire crew, but that didn't mean the air was any less awkwardly hot or stifling. Andrew stayed near the door, but close enough to Kevin that he could reach him easily if necessary. 

"Alright, maggots," Wymack started, clapping his hands together. "Assuming the winds don't change - and with our luck, it probably will - we will be able to stop at Haling Cove by afternoon. Thank you Andrew for the estimation. That means we have to plan for our next stop, Sirencester. This is gonna be a problem, since we're running low on supplies and the journey there will last nearly a month unless we take a different course."

"You mean a short cut," Matt piped up. Wymack nodded, his gaze already straying to Kevin's face. 

It was Renee that spoke next.

"Coach, Andrew, and I were discussing this yesterday. We think that we'll have to take a shortcut through the Shadow Aisles."

Kevin's face paled. "No."

Allison clucked her tongue while Renee's expression turned sympathetic. "It'll cut our journey in half."

"I won't sail through Raven territory," Kevin grit out, his shoulders just barely starting to shake.

"They won't get to you," Wymack cut in gruffly. His voice was harsh but his eyes determined and reassuring. "They will have to get through me and Andrew first."

Kevin twisted around in his seat to stare at Andrew. "Y-You didn't think to tell me?" he demanded, his voice watery and unsteady.

Andrew only shrugged indifferently. Matt, his gaze twisted in something resembling pity, added, "I don't think it'll be that bad, Kevin. Ships pass through all the time without a problem."

"We'll just pay them more to let us pass through," Allison added. "Money will get you anything." 

"Why can't we just - " Kevin stopped, like his throat was closing up. "Why can't we just get supplies while we're at Haling Cove?"

"Even if we did it still wouldn't be enough," Wymack said. "This is our best chance, Kevin."

"If you make us sail the long way and we die of starvation on the way there because you're too scared of a bunch of birdbrains, then I'm throwing you off this ship," Seth spat callously. Renee frowned at him disapprovingly.

"I keep my promises," Andrew said quietly. Kevin stared at him, mouth agape. Dan's head snapped to Andrew like she was surprised he even bothered to speak. He never spoke during their meetings, and Andrew didn't like the gleam in her eyes one bit.

Andrew's burning steadiness seemed to calm Kevin down. He slumped over in his chair, running a hand through his hair and sighing shakily. Wymack waited for a few moments, before nodding curtly. "I'll take that as a yes," he said. "Then this is settled. Dan, Matt, and Allison stay so we can go over trading. The rest of you, scram."

Kevin left straight for the liquor cellar.

\-- 

Mary Hatford had been a truly foolish woman, Nathaniel lamented as he nursed his fresh wounds from a recent training session with Lola. The deep scratches on his shoulders would surely scar, but they would heal soon enough. The blood flowing from the gashes looked black in the water. 

Nathaniel's mother had been a human, and a huntress at that. She belonged to one of the top trading companies in the world, a company that specialized in selling mermaid scales. She was the best huntress in the Caribbean, so of course the Butcher took interest in her. But in the end, even years and years of training and discipline were no match for a merman's magic. 

Mary had fallen in love with Nathan Wesninski. Nathan had taken Mary into the depths with him and turned her into his mermaid, forcing her to leave behind her brother Stuart Hatford and her life of wealth and prosperity. Six years later, Nathaniel was born. Unlike Mary or Nathan, Nathaniel possessed the ability to transform into a human when he was on land. It was a talent that he'd only gotten to use once, when Mary had tried to run (or swim, rather) away with him when he turned eight. Mary had tried to keep Nathaniel as a stowaway on some passing trade ship, but only succeeded for a month before she was caught and killed by Nathan and his crew. Nathaniel had been returned to his "rightful" place at the Butcher's side, and had been living there in the sea for ten years. 

He was eighteen now, and he still simultaneously cursed and grieved for his mother every day. 

Nathaniel glanced down at his shoulder again. He could see the cuts were already starting to close up, so he removed his fingers and sighed shakily. 

Someone clucked their tongue from behind him, and Nathaniel whirled around so fast that his other wounds burned with agony. It was only Jackson, circling around in the water while eyeing Nathaniel's lacerations.

"She did a number on you," he mused.

Nathaniel's stomach roiled, but he forced himself to smirk at Jackson. "Did you see her, though?"

Jackson's eyebrows rose. "That's the spirit." He glanced up at the surface, where it was blissfully free of any ships or sailors. "Haven't gotten any visitors for a while now."

 _Thank God,_ Nathaniel wanted to say, but he didn't. He glanced back down at his cuts, which had completely closed over, leaving faint scars in their place. Jackson clicked his tongue again, before swimming away back in the direction of Nathan's kingdom. Nathaniel was allowed to swim about freely, as long as he remained within the boundaries of the Wesninskis' territory. Admittedly, that gave him a whole lot of freedom, but it wasn't like he could just disappear. Nathan had too many eyes watching him.

Once he was sure he could move his arms, Nathaniel began swimming toward the surface. He broke through the water, shaking droplets from his auburn curls and gazing at his surroundings. The sky was gray and cloudy, a sign of an impending storm. Nathaniel only hoped that no unfortunate ships were blown this way.

He darted back underwater, swimming in the direction of the caves that marked the western boundary of the Forbidden Waters. Nathaniel was a fast swimmer when he felt like putting in the effort - arguably the fastest - so he reached the caves in only a few minutes. There he found a tiny school of fish milling about by the entrance.

"Hello," Nathaniel whispered to them. They didn't answer but they didn't try to escape either. Nathaniel didn't take offense to their silence, simply content to sit there and watch them swim about for the day.

No one loved a Wesninski, after all. 

They saw what it did to Mary Hatford.


	3. mayday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which andrew may actually have to start believing kevin's ghost stories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one violent scene near the end of the chapter, but not graphic.
> 
> (i actually have no idea how ships work so i just put a bunch of pirate-sounding bs, hope it worked <3)

The day after the Foxes started sailing out of Haling Cove, Andrew found Kevin sitting by his hammock, cradling his left hand to his chest with a nearly empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. Curling his lip, Andrew crossed the hallway and snatched the bottle from Kevin, tossing it aside and ignoring the loud noise it made as it shattered. Kevin twitched, his glazed eyes becoming a little clearer as he looked up at Andrew.

"Get up," Andrew said curtly. "You don't want Seth to throw you off, do you?"

Kevin clenched his fists weakly, his eyes reddened and lips slack. "I - he can't."

"Then get the hell up. I have things to do." Andrew waited until Kevin clambered unsteadily to his feet, before rolling his eyes and shoving Kevin into his hammock. "Actually, you're better use here than at the helm. Sober up by the time I check on you again."

Nodding tiredly, Kevin was already curling up in his hammock when Andrew finished his rant. Staring at the broken sailor in front of him, Andrew huffed and jogged back up the stairs.

Renee was waiting for him by the helm, her hair tied back by a tight bandanna. "Hello, Andrew," she greeted him warmly when she saw him. "Is Kevin alright?"

"Drunk and useless," Andrew replied, though he knew Renee understood his words. _Not okay at the moment._ She smiled understandingly, and a bit sadly, before gesturing at the helm. 

"We should be able to pass through Shadow Aisles by the end of the day. If you need to, you can stay with Kevin and I'll take over."

Andrew contemplated her offer, tracing a finger over the outline of the dagger strapped to his hip. Obviously Kevin would be useless for the time being, until they at least were out of the passage and back into open ocean. Matt and Nicky had estimated that the Ravens' latest voyage to negotiate more deals with some mermaid-hunting company would mean they weren't back at Shadow Aisles yet, so the Foxes would be able to sail through without much of an issue. Adding Allison's promise of bribing the guards at the entrance to let them through, their prospects of making it through without death or mental breakdowns seemed...optimistic.

But Andrew knew that the Foxes could never have anything that simple. Even if the Ravens were gone, something was bound to go wrong. So he nodded, accepting Renee's offer.

She smiled. "We haven't dueled in a while either, Andrew. Think we'll have time for that after this?"

"Maybe." Andrew gave her a nod of goodbye before descending the stairs again, making eye contact with his twin brother by the mast before stationing himself at the entrance to their sleeping chambers. 

It was going to be a long night.

\-- 

Andrew woke to a loud and sudden jolt. He scrabbled to find his knife, unsheathing one dagger and throwing another arm out to steady himself against the wall. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, and a brief flash of anger flowed through him at the thought of dozing off, but he would have felt if Kevin tried to get past him anyways. 

There was shouting from above, but Andrew turned around, swinging open the door and poking his head into the chambers. He saw Kevin unsheathing his sword, arms shaking as he tried to steady himself. 

"Andrew?" he called, but Andrew was already running up the stairs - before nearly being knocked off the steps when the ship jolted again. The railing dug painfully into his ribs, but Andrew easily tuned out the pain from years of practice, and ran up the stairs again. He was immediately greeted by a faceful of rain and wind, throwing an arm over his eyes to shield them. 

The sky above them was dark, and ocean spray was splashing over the sides of the ship and spilling onto the main deck. Andrew searched around frantically for his brother and cousin, grip tightening on his knife as Kevin clambered up behind him.

He found Aaron manning the sails with the help of Matt and Seth, and a quick turn of his head brought Nicky, Allison, and Dan into his line of vision, who were struggling to secure all their supplies before they were tipped over into the sea.

Wymack was by the helm with Renee, struggling to keep the ship from careening to the side. He caught Andrew and Kevin staring, and his voice carried over the howling wind.

"Just keep the damn ship from capsizing! Man the sails!" he hollered. 

Kevin, master navigator that he was, immediately started for the stairs leading up to them. Andrew managed to find his way to where Aaron was. His brother glanced at him, hazel eyes turned gray, and tossed him a rope to hold onto. Andrew gripped and pulled with all his might, for once focusing on his job with determination. Because his family was all here, struggling to keep the _Palmetto Foxhole_ from tipping over into the frigid, frothing waters, and because Andrew had survived way too much hell to let some stupid storm drown him. Because he knew that Aaron and Nicky and Kevin and everyone else felt the same way.

Andrew held on until his palms felt like they were going to burn off, he held on until the rains started to lessen and the distant cries of thunder softened. It felt like an eternity before the storm finally settled, leaving the _Palmetto Foxhole_ and all of its Foxes drenched and exhausted.

He dropped the ropes, ignoring how shaky his hands were, and grabbed Aaron by the wrist. His brother let Andrew examine him closely, and once Andrew had looked his fill and the irrational thumping of his heart settled down, he turned around to find Kevin and Nicky.

Nicky was more or less safe, soaked to the bone but grinning with some demented sense of adrenaline. Kevin was slowly making his way down the stairs toward where the rest of the Foxes were congregating by the main mast, Wymack and Renee close behind him.

Dan was the first to break the ringing silence. Teeth chattering and eyes blazing, she demanded, "Does anybody know where the hell we are?"

Andrew gazed out at the vast expanse of ocean. They'd made it past the Shadow Aisles, he presumed, when the storm had hit them. But now they were surrounded by an endless sea, any sense of direction obscured by the thick layer of fog and lack of stars in the dark sky. His eyes found Renee's, and for once, there was a grim expression on her face.

"We were blown off course," she said slowly, eyes blank in the way they always go when she's trying to calculate their bearings. "We must be at least 30 nautical miles off course."

Kevin made a strangled noise while Seth cursed colorfully. Wymack put an end to the Foxes' chatter by clapping his hands loudly, barking, "Hey!"

Andrew inched closer toward Kevin but kept close to Aaron, hand drifting down to his knife. Matt spoke up, "What do we do, then? Kevin, you look like you're going to be sick."

Kevin indeed looked like he was about to be sick. His face was drained of color and his hands were shaking violently, and he looked a hair's breadth from collapsing. Dan turned to stare at their best navigator. 

"Kevin? What's wrong?" she demanded, softening her tone at the haunted look suddenly overcoming Kevin's distraught expression.

"This - this - " he choked out, before cutting himself off and raking a quivering hand through his hair.

"What?" Seth snapped despite Wymack's dirty glare at him. Abby was pushing her way through the crowd toward Kevin, her brows creased with concern.

Kevin finally spat it out after another painful moment.

"I-I recognize this place," he said hoarsely. "T-The Ravens. They would...these are t-the Forbidden Waters."

Andrew would have found it funny - hilarious, even - if Kevin hadn't been so genuinely terrified. And if he was able to find anything funny anymore. 

Instead it was Seth who burst out laughing. "Oh, damn it all to hell. This isn't that bad, Day. Stop acting so - " Surprisingly, it was Allison who slapped him upside the head, shutting him up.

"Okay," Matt said slowly, "why don't we just go back where we came from?"

Renee's gaze turned sympathetic. "After the chaos of the storm it's nearly impossible for us to return to our proper bearings," she said, glancing at Andrew. She knew that Andrew remembered every single one of their locations, coordinates, and bearings. His memory was what made him such a powerful navigator, after all, but even here, in the middle of the supposedly Forbidden Waters, Andrew's abilities were useless. 

He didn't know what to think about that.

Renee continued, "With the lack of any distinguishing land marks and previous cartography of this place, we'll have no choice but to go down ourselves and check it out."

Wymack sighed heavily and gazed intently at Kevin, face pinched into a deep frown. "Is this going to be a problem, Kevin?

Kevin swallowed heavily, unable to answer. Nicky glanced at Wymack with wide eyes. "Do we have to go now?" he asked, quietly for once.

"We can't just float here," Allison said sharply. "We're already wasting too much time."

"Who would - " Dan's question fell short when Andrew, surprising even himself, stepped forward.

"Kevin and I are going," he said, keeping his voice hard to extinguish any argument, not paying any mind to the shocked expressions covering the Foxes' faces or the brilliant smile crossing Renee's face.

"Andrew - " Kevin protested weakly.

"You are the only person here with quasi-understanding of this place," Andrew shot back at him. "And if I go with you, I will be able to find a way out. Don't you trust me?"

"If you're going, then I'm coming too," Aaron cut in. Andrew leveled an icy glare at him, but Aaron was Andrew's twin nonetheless. He had a stubbornness just as strong, if not stronger, as Andrew's.

Wymack tried to keep the surprise off his own face, but Andrew was too perceptive to not notice. Instead their coach shifted his feet, nodding curtly. "Okay. Someone else needs to come with you three, though."

"Safety in numbers," Nicky murmured, his eyes wide and disbelieving as he stared at Andrew and Aaron.

"Seth," Wymack volunteered.

The navigator in question scowled so deeply Andrew thought his mouth might fall off. "Why me?"

"Because Renee, Dan, and I need to talk and you're the only other navigator here." Wymack turned his hot glare to Andrew and his lot once Seth's protesting quieted. "Are you sure about this?" 

The question was directed at Andrew. He tilted his chin up. "Oh, Coach," he said. "I'm always sure." 

\-- 

Shortly afterwards, Allison and Matt had helped lower the dinghy into the waters. Kevin hovered near the edge of the ship, right hand gripping his sword as he stared at the blackened sea below. Andrew gave him a light shove to get him to descend the rope ladder, and quickly followed. He ignored Nicky's fearful farewells in favor of trying not to look down as he descended the side of the ship. Aaron followed Andrew, and Allison leaned over to give Seth a quick kiss before he finally joined them.

Aaron was in charge of holding up the lantern while Kevin and Seth took to rowing the dinghy. Andrew sat opposite of Aaron, eyes fixed on their surroundings and taking in as much detail as he could. He'd already memorized their ship's location, so heading back would be no problem. But the thick fog and sheer midnight darkness meant that they could have been drifting along for miles now, and they wouldn't be able to tell.

Seth broke the silence after half an hour of nothing. 

"What happened to you here," he asked, peering into the water, "that made you so scared of this place? Seems like nothing."

Kevin stopped rowing for a moment to shoot him an exhausted glare. Andrew took note of what appeared to be the distant outline of a forested island.

"I thought that at first, too," he said quietly. "But the Ma-Tetsuji brought our entire ship h-here once, b-because some of the newer crew members were misbehaving. I-It was only a year after I'd joined them. I don't know if even Riko knew what was happening, but the M-Tetsuji forced us to watch."

"Watch what?" Aaron prompted when Kevin fell silent, stopping his rowing. Andrew suddenly wondered if it would have been a good idea to bring some rum along with them.

"He threw the sailors overboard," Kevin said, his voice suddenly harsh like he was trying to ward off the memories by being louder about it. "And we watched them try to float - and then _they_ came."

"They who?" Andrew asked this time, though he was already pretty sure he had an idea.

Kevin turned haunted eyes toward him, confirming his suspicions. "The Wesninskis." His face twisted, like merely uttering that name was poison on his tongue.

Andrew would have asked him what he knew about the Wesninskis. He would have asked Kevin what happened to those poor sailors, maybe if they died a quick or slow, _slow_ death, but he didn't get to. 

Because the moment he opened his mouth, the boat jolted.

Seth cursed, hand darting to his blade. Aaron whipped the lantern over the water, shining it around as he tried to look for the thing that they could've bumped into. Andrew was just focused on Kevin, whose face had turned such ghostly white Andrew would honestly not have been surprised if he'd just dropped dead.

"Kevin," he said quietly. The navigator turned wide green eyes toward him, and the sheer terror swimming in them was enough to unnerve even Andrew.

"What the hell - " Seth was cut off when the boat lurched again, and this time Andrew thought he spotted a flash of movement in the corner of his eye. Something crimson in the water, heading right toward them.

He wrestled Kevin's oar out of his hands, shifting forward and peering into the water where he saw the red. For a moment, there was silence. Absolute silence. 

Then water splashing.

Andrew acted before he could think, using the instincts he'd built up after years aboard the _St. Josephine._ He was swinging the oar before he could even look to see what was coming out of the water. 

A hand wrapped around the paddle before it could hit anything. Andrew's eyes widened, and he tried to wrench the oar from _whoever_ was gripping it, but even he couldn't. He, along with Kevin, Aaron, and Seth, could only stare as something - _someone_ \- rose from the water, and - 

Oh. 

There was a boy in the water. 

A boy with flaming red hair and hundreds of freckles and some misshapen scar running across his pale shoulder. A boy with eyes so icy blue that Andrew felt his breath leave him, for the quickest of moments. A boy staring right at him.

"Holy - " Seth's words were cut off when the boy turned his piercing gaze away from Andrew onto him. His grip on the oar loosened enough that Andrew could tug it free, but the boy swam closer anyways. Andrew caught a glimpse of deep, shimmering red - it had been his tail.

Kevin made a noise like a dying man.

"Who are you?" Andrew finally thought to ask. The boy glanced at him, resting his elbows against the edge of the dinghy and pulling himself up.

"I'll say this once, and _only_ once," the boy said. Strangely enough, Andrew felt his heart twitch at how surprisingly soft and _normal_ the boy's voice sounded. "Take your boat, take your ship - take whoever is with you - and _leave._ Get the hell out of here."

Of course it was Seth who came out of his shock to say something utterly stupid.

"And why should we trust you, fish-brain?" he demanded, his voice waning around the edges when the boy glared at him coldly enough to freeze the warmest of waters.

"You are in dangerous waters," the boy said, something twisted in his voice. Something pained, like anguish. "I am not supposed to be doing this - they will find you. So leave while you still can."

Andrew leaned over the edge of the boat, eyes fixed on the young merman as he began to retreat. He tried to ignore the way the boy's icy blue eyes seemed to pierce right through him as he did so, and instead asked, "Do you have a name?"

Kevin whispered brokenly - maybe slightly relieved, "You're not Nathan."

Andrew swiveled around to stare at Kevin, because _who the hell was Nathan,_ but a strangled noise from the merman stole his attention. He turned back around in time to see the merman's eyes widening, a look of utter disgust and hatred and - what was it - _regret_ overcoming his previously blank expression. In the corner of Andrew's eye, Seth and Aaron were exchanging glances, Seth's grip on his dagger tightening.

The merman stared at Kevin, a distant look in his icy irises, like he was staring into the face of a ghost. He blinked once, twice, and then shook his head slowly. 

"I'm Nathaniel," he whispered. 

Andrew blinked, and _Nathaniel_ was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so andrew and nathaniel have finally met! but they aren't out of the clear yet - the wesninskis are thorough, after all.


	4. the butcher's son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as much as his family would hope he'd turn out just like his father, nathaniel couldn't be any more different from nathan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings for this chapter!!

Nathaniel woke up from a restless sleep to see the familiar figure of Lola swimming toward him. He drifted upright, struggling to push down the familiar tug of fear in his gut at the sight of his mentor. 

"Hey, Junior," she said, a crazed grin stretched across her face. Nathaniel tried to ignore the glints of hungry yellow still visible in her irises and the metallic stench of blood clinging to her body as she approached him. 

"Hello, Lola," he greeted her.

She blinked rapidly, and the piercing yellow completely disappeared, leaving behind blank gray irises. Her eyes fell on the recently formed scars on Nathaniel's shoulder, and a sick smile twisted her ruby lips. 

"You do know your place, don't you, Junior?" She swam closer, and Nathaniel barely managed to resist a full-body flinch. He didn't answer her, anxiety closing up his throat, so Lola hissed and her gills flared. "Yes or no, Junior? Do you or don't you?"

"Yes," Nathaniel said quietly.

Lola stopped. Her hair floated around her face in a wispy cloud, strangely soft for someone as _dangerous_ as her. She reached out, tracing smooth fingers down Nathaniel's cheek. A shudder threatened to crawl up his spine, but years of practice had Nathaniel biting his tongue and remaining still.

"Good," Lola cooed. "Then you know that you belong to us. And you are the Butcher's son, his coveted heir."

"Yes," Nathaniel echoed again, vaguely nauseous.

Lola retracted her hand. A tiny stream of bubbles escaped Nathaniel's mouth from his sigh of relief. She flicked her tail, her copper scales reflecting streams of watery light. 

"Your daddy will be gone for a week at least. Business, as always. Important business," she said with faux casualty. Nathaniel immediately recognized the thinly veiled threat in her tone: _try to escape, and you'll die._ He swallowed, his stomach churning, and nodded. 

"And you're going too?"

"Why, of course." Lola tilted her head to the side. "Just making sure you know what you are before we go." 

"Yes, Lola." Nathaniel knew that despite the fact that his two biggest nightmares, Lola and his father, were gone for the time being, he wasn't free. He never was, and he never would be. Nathan had eyes everywhere, especially in the heart of his kingdom, and though Nathan trusted Nathaniel enough to do most of the hunting for him, he still would never allow him to try and leave. 

Lola stayed for a moment longer, her eyes narrowed and assessing as she tried to pick Nathaniel apart in her head. Satisfied with what she came up with, she nodded curtly and turned around, not before running a hand through Nathaniel's curls one more time. 

He spent hours after that struggling to forget Lola's touch and the memories of claws slashing through his skin.

\-- 

It was the second day of Nathan and Lola's absences that the waters started churning and rumbling. Nathaniel retreated into the underwater caves framing the western border of the Wesninskis' territory, watching as a storm ravaged the waters and turned idle waves into raging monsters. He mindlessly traced his growing collection of scars while the storm grew and then ebbed away, reluctant to return home. 

He liked storms because they gave him an excuse to leave, to find his fabricated safe haven and just forget for a day. Nathaniel lived among heartless monsters and helpless creatures - he was equal parts inhuman and human. It was the parts of Nathan and Mary clashing within him, hollowing him from the inside out as Nathaniel switched between an _animal_ and person. 

If living with Nathan and Mary had ever taught Nathaniel one thing, it was that he could _never_ be both. 

Night fell, and Nathaniel was finally on his way back to the heart of Nathan's kingdom. His surroundings were dark enough that he was well-hidden, navigating the depths with only the moonlight as his guide. Nathaniel was nearing the edges of Nathan's kingdom when he heard a noise from above him, stopping short.

He whirled around, staring at the surface. His heart dropped when he spotted the silhouette of a boat passing through, illuminated by faint golden light from a lamp. 

Nathaniel glanced below him. No one else was coming out, but he knew it was only a matter of time before they noticed the unfortunate passers-by. 

Lola's voice echoed sickly in his ears. 

_You do know your place, don't you, Junior?_

Yes, Nathaniel knew his place. He knew that as long as he continued to live, he would never be able to escape his father's clutches or live a normal life, one where he wasn't hunted both at home and abroad. 

But - damn it all to Hell - Nathaniel was _not_ going to kill anyone more than he already had to. It didn't matter that Nathan still had eyes on his son. His father and Lola were gone - and as long as they were gone, Nathaniel would survive. That was what he was always best at.

He started swimming upwards, quickly enough that he didn't waste time but slowly enough that the sailors wouldn't notice his presence. Nathaniel kept glancing behind him, afraid that the next time he looked back there would be another mermaid hovering right there, claws extended and fangs outstretched.

Nathaniel followed the sailors for only five minutes. From the looks of it, they'd been sailing in the area for a while already. He could hear the deep rumble of someone's voice, but he couldn't make out the exact words.

He moved upwards, and in the proper way of a Wesninski, bumped his shoulder against the boat.

The sailors fell silent. The light abruptly moved, sweeping over the waters in search of something. Nathaniel stayed still for a moment, before darting back toward them and slapping his tail against the hull.

Darting a final glance below him, Nathaniel started to surface. Paranoia told him there was no way someone else hadn't noticed their visitors yet, but still, there was no one lurking in the depths.

In his distraction, he nearly missed the object - an oar - flying right at him. 

Nathaniel moved quickly, managing to grab it before it decapitated him. Someone tried to yank it out of his grip, but Nathaniel only tightened his fist around it. Slowly, keeping his hand on the oar, he rose from the water.

The man gripping the oar was staring right at him. There wasn't fear in his eyes, but then again, Nathaniel couldn't find _anything_ in his eyes. The light of the lamp turned his eyes into a strange shade of gold, illuminating his sharp features and eerily blank expression in a thin halo. 

A different voice gasped, "Holy - " before cutting off when Nathaniel swept his gaze through the rest of the group. There were three more sailors assembled. One was tall with dark skin and thin hair, a decidedly unfriendly expression twisting his face. The other one was - oh, interesting, a carbon copy of the first man who had tried to take Nathaniel's head off. Twins, then. 

And the third one - Nathaniel felt his heart seize up again. The man had changed from when Nathaniel had first seen him as a young boy from underneath the water, when the crew of the _HMS Evermore_ had watched Nathaniel's father and best followers tear several floundering sailors into hundreds of pieces. The sight of dark blood staining the water black was too much for Nathaniel's ten year-old mind to manage, so he'd surfaced to watch the reactions of the crew - not that they were any better. 

He'd decided to fix his gaze on a young boy in particular who looked a couple years older than him. He had dark hair and tanned skin, though his youthfulness was ruined by the stark '2' traced onto his left cheek. He had stood next to a boy of the same height, except with a '1' on his cheek. Nathaniel had disappeared back underwater by the time '2' had swept his haunted gaze in his direction.

But now, Nathaniel was staring a ghost straight in the face. From the looks of it, the man seemed to recognize him too, from the sick pallor of his skin and the wideness of his eyes. 

The first blond man spoke up. "Who are you?"

Nathaniel glanced at him, blinking. His voice had a peculiar lilt and roll to it; it wasn't too deep but it wasn't unpleasant to hear either. He swam closer, eventually resting his elbows against the edge of the boat and pulling himself up. He chose his next words carefully - this was his only chance to ward them off, and he couldn't afford to wait any longer. Someone must've definitely spotted them by now. All Nathaniel could do was offer these sailors a head start.

"I'll say this once, and _only_ once," Nathaniel said. "Take your boat, take your ship - take whoever is with you - and _leave._ Get the hell out of here."

The dark-skinned sailor glared at him, scowling, and snapped, "And why should we trust you, fish-brain?"

A flare of his father's temper flickered in Nathaniel's chest, but he quickly pushed it aside. He settled for an icy glare at the sailor, who shrunk back.

"You are in dangerous waters," Nathaniel continued, poison lacing his voice. "I am not supposed to be doing this - they will find you." And Nathaniel was going to pay dearly for his charity. "So leave while you can."

The first sailor leaned forward slightly. His expression was still blank, sending chills down Nathaniel's spine. He didn't know what was worse: Lola's crazed grin, Nathan's maniacal laughter as he tore someone to pieces, or this man's _nothingness._

He asked quietly, "Do you have a name?"

Nathaniel blinked. He was already pushing himself away from the boat, hoping against all hope that Nathan's men would ignore the sailors and instead target Nathaniel for sparing them. He was sure to be torn apart, not badly enough that he would die, but badly enough that he was sure to be incapacitated for a while. A thrill of tragic adrenaline gripped him by the shoulders at the thought of his impending punishment. 

Then 2 spoke up. 

"You're not Nathan."

His words, laced with sheer relief and terror, paralyzed Nathaniel. He stared at the man, his muscles locked up except for the misty nausea and disgust swimming in his stomach. 

Then his chest tightened, Nathaniel couldn't breathe for a second, and he wished with every fiber and nerve of his being that he could _tear_ his father from his life. 

The sailor hadn't been looking at Nathaniel as Nathaniel. Up until Nathaniel had warned them to leave, he'd been seeing the Butcher.

The thought alone was enough to make Nathaniel want to hurl himself into the depths and never surface again.

He blinked twice, tearing his gaze from 2. It was obvious they wouldn't leave without an answer, and Nathaniel was fast running out of time, so he forced himself to speak.

"I'm Nathaniel."

He didn't think he'd swam away from anyone faster in his entire life.

\-- 

It was Aaron who turned to Kevin, teeth bared in a snarl. "You knew him?"

"No," Kevin breathed, still staring into the water where Nathaniel was last seen. 

"Then who the fuck was Nathan?" Seth demanded. 

"I - "

"It doesn't matter. We're leaving." Andrew tossed the oar at Kevin, who managed to catch it before it whacked him in the face. 

"What if that was a trap, and he was just luring us out?" Seth argued, turning toward Andrew.

"He wasn't lying." Kevin's voice was barely above a harsh whisper. "We have to leave, now."

"We're talking about this," Seth grumbled, though he obliged and started rowing. Andrew glared at Kevin's bowed head, already forming a list of questions he'd be asking him as soon as they were safely aboard the _Palmetto Foxhole._ This was a part of Kevin's life that he'd never told Andrew about, and Andrew wasn't keen on being left in the dark. 

Aaron kept shining his lantern over the edge of the dinghy, staring into the water. His hand had drifted, subconsciously, to the hilt of his sword. 

"Do you think they're coming after us?" he asked over his shoulder to Kevin.

"I-I don't know." At this point, Kevin was starting to shake. Andrew quickly rattled off a set of directions again to get Kevin's attention before he descended into a mental breakdown. As always, Kevin's instincts as a navigator took over first, and he mechanically continued to rotate his oar.

Maybe it _was_ by pure luck that they managed to sail back to their ship without incident. Kevin was the first off the boat, crawling up the rope ladder like it was his only salvation. Andrew was close behind, if only to keep Kevin from falling over - he was shaking that much.

Nicky was the first to them once they climbed onto the main deck. 

"What happened? Are you okay? Is something wrong? Kevin?" he demanded without pausing for breath, only stopping when Andrew turned his glare toward him. 

"Get Wymack," Kevin muttered, a hand on his forehead like he was testing for a fever. Understandable. According to Nathaniel, they had just narrowly avoided death.

Speaking of Nathaniel.

Andrew couldn't rid his memory of the young merman. His stern voice echoed in Andrew's ears, a voice so unexpectedly human and - what was the word - pretty - it was a tug on even Andrew's perfectly constructed self-control. Every time he blinked, he could see Nathaniel's piercing blue eyes fixed on him, and every time he looked back out into the waters, he swore he could see crimson red. 

Andrew paused abruptly before he could crash into a concerned Renee. 

"Andrew? Are you alright?" she asked gently, hands out as if to steady him but not close enough to touch. Ignoring her question, Andrew slid his gaze past her shoulder to see Wymack and Dan thundering onto the deck. The coach's posture visibly relaxed when he saw all four members of his crew back and in mainly one piece when excluding Kevin, though his eyebrows furrowed when he saw his navigators' faces.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded, his voice a loud clap of thunder compared to Nathaniel's soft drizzle. Andrew started, and then promptly wanted to slap himself for thinking of the damned merman again. Maybe he'd get Renee to punch it out of him later. 

But duty came first. He crossed the deck toward Kevin, Renee close behind him, and grabbed his shoulder to shake him. 

"Mayday, mayday, Kevin is in trouble," he deadpanned, quirking an eyebrow when Kevin stared at him. "Explain right now who and what that was out there, and I'll reconsider throwing you off the ship."

"Andrew, what the hell - " Dan started. 

"Call a damn meeting," Seth snapped. 

Wymack glanced between Andrew and Kevin one, two more times, before sighing heavily. "Come to my cabin. All of you maggots."

Kevin took a step forward to follow Wymack, but Andrew tightened his grip in a warning. "Dangerous waters, Kevin," he said, parroting Nathaniel's earlier words. "Got anything to say to me?"

"...I'm sorry."

"Sorry is never enough, Day. How am I supposed to protect you if I don't know what I'm going against?"

Kevin shivered, and Andrew finally dropped his hand. "I-I promise I'll explain. In the meeting."

"Promises, promises." Andrew roughly brushed past Kevin in Wymack's direction. "How do I know you won't break them."

\-- 

Once the entire crew had gathered in Wymack's cabin, he started off the meeting with a loud and booming, "What the fuck happened?"

Allison hummed her agreement, fixing an intent gaze on Andrew and Kevin. "I've never seen Andrew act out like that."

Aaron rolled his eyes painfully, before slumping back in his seat. "We probably didn't get halfway through those waters. We still don't know how to navigate this place."

Renee turned a gently prying gaze toward Andrew. "What did you see, Andrew?" she prompted lightly.

Andrew, still slightly annoyed at Kevin's reticence, took out a knife and casually began scraping it against the wall. "I saw an island. We can sail toward there for now and then figure it out," he droned.

"That's where we have some bad news," Dan said quietly, running a hand over her forehead. The Foxes, accustomed to bad news and rotten luck, all turned expectant gazes toward her. "We lost too many supplies during the storm. We won't be able to make it out of here unless we dock somewhere and somehow get more."

"Fucking hell," Seth snarled. Kevin looked like he'd just been punched in the gut ten times in succession, and Nicky looked like he might vomit. 

"So that's what I need to know," Wymack said slowly, assessing each of his Foxes' expressions. "What exactly did you find out there? And don't think to keep anything a secret. We have to know everything if we want to make it out of here alive."

Ah, the ultimatum of death. A classic. Andrew tucked his knife away in its sheath, leaning to one side and glaring at the back of Kevin's head. 

"Would you like to explain, Day?" he almost sneered. Anger really did ugly things to Andrew.

Kevin started, before touching his fingers to his left hand. Wymack reached into his desk, taking out a filled bottle of rum, and threw it at Kevin. Only after drinking half the bottle of liquid courage did Kevin begin to speak.

"We saw a merman."

There was a beat of silence, and then the Foxes burst into noise. There was Nicky demanding to know what Nathaniel had looked like - something unreal, Andrew wanted to answer - and Allison exchanging glances with Renee, and Matt putting his head in his hands while Dan leaned forward, staring intently at Kevin. Wymack remained stony-faced and silence, still waiting for Kevin to continue. 

When it was evident that it would take two more bottles of liquor to get Kevin to open up, Andrew took over. 

"He didn't try to kill us, but he warned us to stay away," Andrew said. "He said _they_ would come for us, but never specified who _they_ were." He glared at Kevin, because now was the perfect opportunity for Kevin to chime in with his apparently true ghost stories and truths that he owed Andrew. 

Kevin had the good sense to meet Andrew's searching gaze. He shuddered and drained the rest of his rum, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I thought I recognized him," he said, trembling, "because I've been...I've been here before. I saw w-what the mermaids did to the sailors. T-They'd tear them up, probably eat them, and the blood - "

"Enough." Dan's voice was firm, and Kevin was more than happy to shut up. Andrew still wasn't satisfied, but he'd pry Kevin later. "We don't need to know what they will do, Kevin, we have to figure out how we're going to deal with this."

"Ask the damn piece of shit for advice. Nothing is real anymore," Seth grumbled. Dan's eyebrows shot up to her hairline, and the look she exchanged with Wymack was calculating and questioning. 

"Seth, you might have actually come up with something good for once in your life," Matt muttered after seeing the same exchange. 

"Oh, no. I wasn't being serious." Seth sat up straighter, glaring at his coach and captain. 

Dan and Wymack stayed quiet for a moment longer, before Wymack nodded curtly and turned toward the rest of the crew. 

"Plan of action. We sail to the island Andrew found - you're navigating for that, Minyard - and dock there. Hopefully there'll be a port or something we can get supplies from. And we have to find this merman, and hopefully he'll know a way out for us."

"You can't be serious," Aaron said incredulously after a tense minute of silence. Kevin slumped over, hugging the rum to his chest like it was gold. 

"Unfortunately, I am." Wymack gazed at his fallen navigator, and his expression softened a fraction. "This is the best way out. If we sail through here blind, it's more than likely that we'll run out of supplies before we get out of here. Kevin, I will not have you go out there again if you don't want to."

Renee volunteered, "I'll go in his stead."

"There you have it." Wymack leaned heavily against his desk, glaring at the maps laid out on it. "Andrew, take the helm. The rest of you get some rest. We will need it."

As soon as they were dismissed, Kevin shakily rose to his feet and left. Before Andrew could follow him, Renee stepped in his path.

"I'll steer while you take care of him, if you would give me the bearings," she offered.

Andrew rattled off the bearings he'd calculated, and Renee smiled gently at him and let him pass by. Following Kevin's path presumably to the cellar, Andrew descended the stairs and resisted the urge to kick the door open in spite. He found Kevin hunched over beside a barrel of gunpowder, face cradled in quivering hands.

Impatience wasn't normal for Andrew, but he always hated secrets.

He waited only a minute before lowly asking, "Who is Nathan?"

Kevin inhaled sharply and looked up. His green eyes were bloodshot but he wasn't crying. "Y-You don't know - "

"I said I didn't believe in ghost stories, Day," Andrew said curtly. "Tell me now."

Stretching his legs out, Kevin leaned his head against the wall. Andrew entered the cellar and crouched down beside him, unsheathing a knife and letting the lazy glow of the lamps glint off the sharpened blade. Kevin's eyes were trained on Andrew's weapon, but slowly the tension began to seep out of his shoulders, letting exhaustion take its place.

"Nathan Wesninski," he said, sounding out the name carefully like saying it out loud might curse him. "The Butcher of the Caribbean. You must have heard of him."

Andrew did indeed recall hearing the name, Butcher of the Caribbean, tossed around a couple of times in the hubs the Foxes had stopped at. He hadn't paid much attention to it, dismissing the name as some lonely sailor trying to get a shot at notoriety. He nodded, gesturing for Kevin to continue.

"The Butcher has an empire of merpeople. T-They prey on anyone and everyone that crosses their path. The Wesninskis...they're the most dangerous breed of mermaids and mermen in the world." Kevin paused as if to give Andrew time to put the pieces together, but Andrew was still left with more blank holes than he was happy with.

"And?" Andrew demanded. "The one who warned us to leave - you thought he was Nathan."

Kevin groaned, rubbing furiously at his face. "I didn't know the Butcher had a son."

Oh. _Oh._ Now that was interesting.

"Nathaniel Wesninski." The name tasted strange on Andrew's tongue. It tasted dangerous - like flirting with death. Like teetering on the edge of a cliff while drunk.

"I thought he was Nathan because - I saw Nathan only once. It was when the - Tetsuji threw those sailors overboard. I was telling you about it. I saw the Butcher himself personally tear them apart."

"What does this Butcher have to do with the Ravens?" Andrew asked again.

"The Butcher is - Kengo Moriyama's right hand man, I guess," Kevin murmured. "The Moriyamas are trying to take over the seven seas, and eventually the entire world. It's easier if they have allies in the water to do the job for them - and that's what the Butcher does. He helps them to keep control, to make everyone fear them."

"But no one knows the Butcher belongs to the Moriyamas," Andrew said slowly against the onslaught of new information.

"No. All that matters is that the Wesninskis are the force that keeps the Moriyama empire in line, and they're damn good at it."

Andrew sheathed his knife while Kevin sighed again, shoulders slumping. Then he asked, "And where does this Nathaniel Wesninski fit into all this?"

"I don't know," Kevin replied. "I didn't even know he existed until tonight."

"Why did he save us?"

"I-I don't know," he repeated, more frustrated this time. "That makes him a loose end, and that doesn't bode well for him."

Andrew stared at Kevin for a moment longer, before standing up. Nathaniel's stormy eyes flashed in Andrew's memory again, and he ground his teeth together.

"But he is a threat," he said quietly.

"A threat?" Kevin stared at Andrew incredulously. "He saved our lives, Andrew. No one has ever survived the Forbidden Waters before."

Humming, Andrew turned around and beckoned for Kevin to get up as well. Once his crewmate was up and following him, Andrew left the cellar and made his way to the main deck.

Nathaniel Wesninski was a confusing, open-ended problem, and Andrew had always hated open-ended things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please feel free to ask me if anything seems unclear! basically in this story, nathaniel doesn't know kevin or riko by name bc he doesn't know that his father is tied to the moriyamas - just that he has to hunt for nathan. that's why he refers to kevin as '2' for now. kevin "recognized" nathaniel because he's the spitting image of the butcher.


	5. the hounds are coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nathaniel and andrew strike a tentative deal.
> 
> (poor kevin).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: descriptions of violence, not graphic or too detailed

"Seth, Nicky, and Matt, you three are going to map out as much of this stupid island as possible," Wymack rattled off. "Kevin and Aaron are staying with us to start mapping. Andrew and Renee, you know what your jobs are."

Renee nodded, her smile for-once replaced with a blanker, more concentrated expression. Of course Wymack had assigned Andrew and Renee the most difficult job: finding Nathaniel Wesninski. Andrew was tempted to just retreat to his hammock and sleep for the rest of the day, still somewhat tired from the night before, but Renee had convinced him to accompany her with the promise of a good sword duel when they returned. 

So now they were climbing down the side of the ship onto the dark sands of the ragged islands lining the waters. Renee had a compass in one hand and a dagger in the other. Andrew kept all his knives strapped to his side with his sword hanging against his hip just in case. 

They trekked in silence along the coastline, looking for any signs of a merman's dwellings - like Andrew knew shit about this. Renee eventually glanced at him and asked, "What do you think about him?"

Andrew quirked an eyebrow. "Whom?" 

"That merman. He saved your lives," Renee clarified. 

"I don't know what his motives were," Andrew said after a moment's pause. "He could have been warding us off because we outnumbered him and he didn't want to take all of us on."

"I think you ought to have more faith in him," Renee replied. Andrew eyed the cross necklace dangling against her collarbones.

"I don't think so," he said pointedly. Renee closed her mouth and dropped the subject, as Andrew had never believed in a God while He had been the thing that had saved Renee. Andrew was quietly grateful for that - he wasn't up for another debate over the merits of religion.

They walked for what seemed to be hours, and still they saw no change in their surroundings. Andrew had switched to staring out into the water while Renee did most of the looking-around. He didn't know what he was hoping to find. A flash of red? A pair of blue eyes staring back at him? Auburn hair?

He was so busy staring at the water lapping over the sand that he crashed into Renee when she abruptly stopped. Andrew couldn't resist the flinch that ran through him, and the guilty look on Renee's face said that she'd noticed.

"What?" Andrew bit out.

"I think I see something," Renee said quietly, pointing through the mist. "It looks like a rocky hill. Maybe there's something there."

Andrew followed her finger - and there indeed was a dark silhouette in the distance. He nodded curtly, one hand dropping to the hilt of his knife as he let Renee lead the way there. It was obvious that Wymack had paired Renee and Andrew together not just because she was the one person outside of Andrew's family that he tolerated, but also because combined, they were a deadly force of nature. With Renee's mercilessness and Andrew's sharpness, they were a formidable pair. 

Their pace began to slow as they neared the strange hill. The mist began to clear before them, revealing not a hill, but a huge cave half submerged in water. It would have been a beautiful sight if not for the eerie emptiness to it. 

Renee drew her sword, looking around. Andrew asked, "Do you see something?"

"I don't know. Something feels off," she said. "We should get closer."

Andrew took the lead, making his way down a steep pathway of slick rocks to where the base of the cave met with water. Renee called down after him, "Do you think we'll find him here?"

"There's no where else he could be," Andrew replied. It wasn't as if the damn merman could walk on land or anything.

He unsheathed his own knife, gripping it tightly as he made his way closer to the cave. There really was no where he or Renee could go except for the entrance, since the rest of the cave was obviously underwater. Sighing in exasperation, Andrew moved as close to the water as he could without his shoes touching it.

"Be careful, Andrew," Renee said softly.

"Do you see anything past here?" Andrew asked, ignoring her warning. He heard her sigh quietly, but the sound of her retreating footsteps told him that she was checking out the rest of the land beyond the cave. Stepping back from the water, Andrew struggled not to let his misgivings overwhelm his rationality, and settled for twirling his knife in his hands.

Something about this place did seem off. He could smell danger, _danger_ lurking in the air, and he couldn't write it off as paranoia, either. Kevin's stories and Renee's similar feelings could not possibly be mere coincidences.

After some time passed, Renee returned. She gracefully jumped down from the top of the cave, making her way down the naturally carved pathway. 

"There's only more forest from here on out," she said. "There are several more caves after this in a cluster, but that's it. Should I go check them?"

"Don't split up." Andrew tossed his knife to his other hand, spinning it around before sheathing it. "How far are we out?"

"Maybe six or seven miles, at the most," she estimated.

"How long have we been out here?"

"Half a day at the very least." Renee traced something into the ground with the tip of her sword. "It should be around midday, maybe a few hours till dusk. The mist has definitely cleared."

"We should head back now," Andrew said after a moment of silence. 

"Okay. We'll try again tomorrow." Renee stuck a stick onto the ground, marking their progress. Andrew picked a jagged rock up from the ground, weighing it in his palm. He didn't know why he did it, but he tossed it into the water, watched it sink below the surface and then disappear.

As the two of them turned to head back, Andrew thought he heard a soft splash. Halting, he whirled around with his knife out. Renee paused too, looking around.

Andrew scanned the area, but he found nothing. Renee's marker was still in the ground, and when his eyes fell on the rocky pathway leading into the water, nothing looked like it had moved. But still...

"Come on, Andrew. I think it might've been a bird." Renee's face was blank as she led him away, though her knuckles around her blade were white. 

It was when they were more than halfway back when it hit Andrew what had happened.

The rock Andrew had thrown into the water had been resting right beside Renee's marker, after he'd watched it sink and disappear.

_Something had been there._

A shiver ran down Andrew's spine, and he couldn't help but keep looking over his shoulder the rest of the way back.

\-- 

Nathaniel was lucky to survive his punishment. Just barely lucky enough. 

It had been Jackson who'd torn into him once he found out about the escaped sailors, eyes flashing a glowing yellow as Nathaniel's blood stained the water around them. He kept hissing as he'd sliced into Nathaniel, "You will pay for this. You will pay for this, you _worthless son of a bitch._ "

When his punishment was over, Jackson had leaned over Nathaniel and whispered into his ear, "This was your one warning, Wesninski. The next one, and you're _dead._ " 

He swam off, leaving Nathaniel limp and bleeding in the water. 

Nathaniel had managed to swim to the western islands, his blood leaving a damning trail behind him. His head spun from blood loss and his stomach churned and his energy waned, but he still managed to find his way into his underwater caves. 

He drifted down, shivering. Curling in on himself, Nathaniel forced himself to breathe as his body began the agonizing process of healing itself. The worst injury, a gash on his tail that resulted in him losing several scales, would likely take a day to heal. 

"Fuck," he whispered harshly as he pressed a hand against the cut, his skin briefly being covered in red. Nathaniel rested his forehead against the rocky walls, shuddering. 

He could only hope his warning had been enough to keep those sailors away, or this would have all been for nothing.

Nathaniel watched as the water washed away his red tides.

\-- 

Losing so much blood seriously hindered Nathaniel's ability to swim quickly. He remained in his haven for a day, unable to move or do anything other than watch his own wounds seal and scar. No one came to visit him - not even the fish.

He didn't know how much time passed, but eventually Nathaniel forced himself to move. The gash on his tail was mostly healed, leaving behind a large pink welt where new scales were yet to grow. His arms felt stiff from not being used for so long, and it took him a while to get used to moving his tail without pain shooting up his lower back. 

Nathaniel hated when he couldn't swim. It felt like the one thing he lived for had been taken away, leaving behind a hollow shell of a tormented creature.

Instead of leaving his caves, Nathaniel retreated further into it. He swam through the wide underwater channels and traced his fingers along the ridges in the rock. He surfaced and stared at the top of the caves, at the pale limestone and tiny crystals forming where the water ended and air began. Wavy ripples of light danced across the stone ceiling, graceful and beautiful enough to bring a breathless smile to Nathaniel's face.

This, after all, was the only place that was truly beautiful in these waters. Everywhere else was stained with the ghost of blood and violence.

Nathaniel could've stayed in that main chamber for the rest of his life, but he knew that if he wanted to avoid further punishment, he'd have to return home. His stomach twisted at the mere thought of calling the Butcher's kingdom his _home,_ but it wasn't like Nathaniel had ever had a choice. 

He began swimming back out through the pathways that he knew by heart. He was nearing the entrance of the caves when he heard a noise - a voice - that made him abruptly stop. 

It sounded like a man and a woman talking. 

Nathaniel crept closer, sticking close to the shadows. Once he got close enough to make out what the voices were saying, he stopped again, only for anger to flare within his chest.

"We should head back now."

Though Nathaniel had only heard the man once, he could recognize that drawl anywhere. 

He peeked around the corners, careful to stay hidden, and the familiar flash of blond hair and short stature confirmed his suspicions. What the _hell?_ Nathaniel wanted to curse. He hadn't nearly been ripped to pieces for this idiot to return here, much less _stay._

The woman's voice replied, "Okay. We'll try again tomorrow."

 _Two_ idiots, then.

There was a loud splash, and Nathaniel nearly hit his head against the wall from how hard he flinched. He blinked, vision clearing, only to see a rock the size of his hand settle on the bottom of the floor. The voices faded as the two sailors retreated, and Nathaniel slowly swam forward. 

He picked up the rock and contemplated hurling it at the blond's head. 

Instead he huffed and tossed it ashore. Anger still fresh in his chest and leaving a faint nausea in its wake, Nathaniel swam away without bothering to look back.

\-- 

"Any luck?" Dan pressed by the time Andrew and Renee returned just as the sky began to darken. As Renee rattled off the day's findings, Andrew slipped around her and headed for the sleeping quarters. Now that he was back on the ship and done with his job for the day, he felt unusually tired. It was probably because he'd gotten less than four hours of sleep in the past few days, and just wanted to sink into sleep and never wake up. 

He sat down in his hammock, removing all his knives except for one which he kept tucked against his chest. The weight of the blade against his skin always grounded him.

The door swung open a few minutes later, and Andrew looked up to see Renee standing in the doorway.

"Are you okay?" She walked up to him, rolling up her sleeves to reveal her arms which were swirling with black tattoos. "You look awfully tired."

Andrew merely grunted in reply. Renee hummed softly, before asking, "Are you still up for that duel?"

"Another time," Andrew replied after a minute. She nodded, accepting his answer without question.

"Can I touch you?" she asked quietly, holding out a hand.

Andrew peered at her through drooping eyes. Her expression was open and earnest, her smile soft while her fingers were rough and calloused from years of fighting and sailing. People weren't usually something Andrew associated 'safe' with, but Renee Walker was one of the only people he would trust to have his back. She knew little about Andrew's past, only snippets here and there, but never once did she pry or try to force anything out of him.

So he nodded, and Renee's grateful smile was enough of a 'thank you.' She reached out and carded her fingers through Andrew's hair, before gently resting her palm on his forehead like she was checking for a fever. 

"Good night, Andrew." With that, she withdrew and left, closing the door and encasing him in blissful darkness.

\-- 

Admittedly, not having to babysit Kevin and actually getting some sleep really rejuvenated Andrew. He woke up just as the sun had risen, leaving the sky in a weird shade of gray and gold and setting the ship alight with a faint orange glow. Andrew made his way down the hallways toward Wymack's cabin, pushing the door open without knocking. 

Renee and Kevin, who were both sitting in front of Wymack, turned around. A soft smile graced Renee's face while Kevin frowned at Andrew. 

"Are you feeling better?" Renee asked while Wymack motioned for Andrew to take a seat. Giving Renee a tiny nod, Andrew chose to stand behind Kevin and instead leaned against his chair.

"Are you up for a second round?" Wymack asked, gruff concern in his voice.

"Sure," Andrew drawled. "What did Nicky's trio find?"

"They didn't get far," Kevin mumbled. "But Matt said he might've seen what looked like a pier. Where there's a pier, there must be a port. They've already headed off. They took Allison and Dan with them."

"Andrew and I can go right now, too," Renee offered.

Wymack nodded, before reaching down and tossing them each a flask. "It's water. Try not to die of dehydration."

"Thanks," Andrew said dryly, attaching the flask to his hip and stepping back so Renee could stand up. "Hey, Kevin, you can pretend Aaron is me for the day if it'll save you from a mental breakdown." 

"Fuck you," Kevin said without venom.

Their trek outwards considerably faster than the day before, since they both knew where to go. Andrew had ditched his knives for his sword today, gripping it loosely in his hand as he and Renee made their way through the shrubs and sand. 

"What would you do if the dead all came back to haunt us?" Renee suddenly asked. 

"I don't believe in ghosts," Andrew said flatly. Renee huffed softly with amusement, and Andrew added, "If they did exist, I would slash them."

"Wouldn't your sword go straight through them?"

"They'd have to have a physical form to even stand a chance of hurting me." Andrew smacked his sword against a nearby tree trunk, leaving a dent in the bark. 

Renee was smiling softly, an expression that Andrew had begun to notice seemed to be solely reserved for him. It was strange, having someone look at him just as Andrew - not a broken monster or hollow sailor. It was...nice. 

Of course, Andrew would never admit that out loud, but he guessed Renee was smart enough to see that anyways.

"What are you going to do?" Andrew asked when the silence stretched for a moment too long. "Use your holy water?"

"I don't have holy water," Renee replied easily, flicking a knife upward in her hand in such a way that her sleeves slid down, revealing her tattoos. "Just these."

"Modest girl, you are."

She laughed, the pleasant sound echoing through the clearing. 

\-- 

It was around noon that they finally arrived at the caves again. Andrew glanced at Renee's marker, which looked unmoved except for that _fucking rock that had somehow reappeared next to it._

Any semblance of previous security gone, Andrew tightened his grip on his sword and kicked aside the rock. "Should we stay here and check for movement," Renee asked, "or check out the other caves?"

"Wait here first," Andrew replied quietly, surveying the water for signs of movement or life. "If he's here, it will save us the trouble of searching."

Renee hummed in agreement, propping her sword against the nearby rocks and taking a long swig from her water. She used a strip of fabric to tie back her hair, blowing loose strands out of her face.

"I miss being out in the open ocean already," she said after a while of nothing. Andrew had been absently picking at the bandages on his forearms (they weren't exactly bandages - more like strips of cloth that he never took off to hide the ragged mountains of scars on his wrists). He grunted in response to her, readjusting his position by the cave entrance. 

"I don't care," he said. 

Renee had that expression that said she wouldn't argue with him but she wanted to, but Andrew turned her gaze away from her back onto the water. She sighed softly, suggesting, "Maybe we should head further out. We've been here a while."

Andrew nodded assent, taking his foot off the rock he'd propped it against. As Renee began climbing the pathway leading toward the other caves and Andrew turned to follow, something splashed loudly behind him.

In one fluid motion, Andrew had turned around with his sword brandished, pointing in the direction of the noise. Renee called, "Andrew?" but he was already moving down to the cave entrance. 

"Who's there?" he demanded lowly. That splash definitely wasn't a hallucination, because Renee was coming back down, having heard it too. 

The loudest few seconds of silence echoed through the clearing. Just as Andrew's grip on his hilt was beginning to get painful, a soft voice that wasn't Renee's spoke.

"I think the proper question is: why are you still here?" 

Nathaniel Wesninski was hovering in the shadows of the cave, his icy blue eyes staring right at Andrew. He froze, barely refraining from dropping his sword at the startling brightness of Nathaniel's irises. Then his eyes traveled lower, taking in the vast expanse of silvery scars and freckles on Nathaniel's torso that he hadn't seen the first time. Behind him, he could hear Renee's quiet gasp at the sight of the merman.

In Andrew's hesitance, Nathaniel swam closer, resting an elbow against a crevice in the rock so he could lean against the wall. He rested his cheek in one arm as he gazed at Andrew and Renee - a look that would've been innocent had it not been for the blazing anger in his eyes.

"Oh," Renee breathed. "Hello."

"No," Nathaniel said sharply. His eyes were still on Andrew. "I told you and your lot to leave, and you were _stupid_ enough to think that you would come back, and even stupider if you thought you were going to stay."

Renee, ever the diplomat, stepped forward. She put her hand on Andrew's blade, careful not to touch him, and gently pushed his sword down. "We aren't here to hurt you, Nathaniel - "

"Oh, so you know who I am." Nathaniel's smile was as sharp and wounding as a knife. "Then you must know that _I_ am not scared of you, that it is my kind that _you_ should be afraid of."

"If you would help us, we would be gladly on our way," Renee said. 

He flicked his tail disdainfully, sending a splash of water toward the shore. Andrew's eye twitched when he noticed the fresh scar running across Nathaniel's hip down his tail. 

"You are the sailors, not me," Nathaniel spat. "You should know how to retrace your steps. I am not risking myself to help you any further."

"Risking?" From the sudden blankness in Renee's expression, Andrew construed that she'd noticed Nathaniel's scars too. "Is someone hurting you?"

He bared his teeth. "Off you go. And don't come looking for me again, because you won't find me."

Nathaniel was slipping from the rock, retreating back underwater. Renee opened her mouth, probably to plead Nathaniel to stay, at least help them find some supplies, but Andrew - for whatever goddamn reason - beat her to it.

"I propose a deal," he said, albeit a bit too loudly. It was enough to make Nathaniel stop. 

"I don't need a deal," he said hoarsely.

"Fair trade," Andrew interrupted him. "You lead us to the nearest port where we can get supplies. I find a way to get you out of here."

Nathaniel's piercing eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open in a disbelieving laugh. "And who the hell are you?"

"Andrew Minyard," Andrew said, before jabbing a thumb in Renee's direction. "Renee Walker."

"And what makes you think you'll be able to get me out?" Nathaniel demanded. "You're nothing. Stop wasting your time here."

"I know a man. Kevin Day," Andrew barreled on. It sickened him slightly that he'd have to enlist Kevin's help in this - especially since Kevin couldn't look at the water without looking like he wanted to vomit - but it was the only thing Andrew could think of. "He knows this place. He, Renee, and I will figure out a way for you to escape."

"Kevin Day," Nathaniel repeated skeptically. 

"I believe you'll recognize him when you see him," Andrew said, remembering the look on Nathaniel's face when he'd seen Kevin two nights ago. 

The young merman paused. His brows were drawn together and his expression guarded. His voice was low when he asked again, "What makes you think I want to escape?"

Andrew pointedly swept his gaze across Nathaniel's body. "You look it."

They stared at each other for an endless minute. Andrew started to wonder why Nathaniel's eyes were closer to the sky than the ocean when the merman finally stirred.

"Come back tomorrow at this time, and we'll see. I've been away long enough as it is." Nathaniel's gaze lingered on Andrew, his lips twisted. "Goodbye, Andrew."

Nathaniel was gone in the next moment, leaving Andrew wondering why the hell he liked the sound of Nathaniel saying his name so much.

Renee let out a shuddering sigh. "Andrew - "

"Kevin's going to kill me." Andrew thought that if he could still smile, he would have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (slamming fists against table, clanging pots and pans) ANDREW AND RENEE'S FRIENDSHIP ANDREW AND RENEE'S FRIENDSHIP ANDREW AND RENEE'S FRIENDSHIP ANDREW AND RENEE'S FRIENDSH


	6. day and night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> andrew's methods of diplomacy aren't the best, but luckily - or unluckily - for him, nathaniel isn't so easily cowed either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: some discussion of andrew's past, very vague tho, only like a paragraph

"No. Nonononono. Why? _Why?_ " Kevin's eyes were blown wide, his hands desperately fisted in his hair as he paced around Wymack's cabin. "Andrew - "

"You are not going to die," Andrew interrupted him flatly as Renee talked quietly with Wymack. "I won't let you."

"Andrew," Kevin whimpered again, staring at him pathetically. "I can't do that. Please, I-I can't."

_Please._ The word echoed through Andrew's head, eventually morphing from Kevin's voice to his own, ragged and barren of hope. He could barely hold back his flinch, forcing the bile back down his throat and ignoring the sounds of his pleas. Plastering on a vacant and threatening smile, Andrew snarled, "I don't like that word. Don't say that word."

"I-I'm sorry," Kevin stammered, though Andrew knew he really wasn't. 

"Do you trust me or not?" Andrew asked lowly, shoving his anger down, deep down, until the one person he could take it out on was himself. Kevin stopped pacing, hands shaking, and then quietly nodded. "Then you should know that I won't let Wesninski touch you."

Any spine Kevin had left drained from him, and he slumped over on Wymack's chair. 

"Make sure he's ready for tomorrow," Wymack said to Andrew, eyes fixed on his fallen navigator. Pursing his lips, he added, "I don't like this, but we'll just have to make do."

"It didn't seem like Nathaniel wanted to hurt us," Renee said quietly. "He was just angry that we stayed despite him telling us to leave."

"I don't like this shit at all." Wymack took to crinkling and squeezing one of his maps instead of raising his voice. "Making a deal with a merman? And on top of that, promising to free him, no less? We have no plan, no supplies, and no great crew. How are we going to pull this off?"

"Thanks for having faith in us, Coach," Andrew said dryly, although he did indeed have no plan. At all.

"For fuck's sake." 

"Nathaniel doesn't even think that it's possible for us to help him escape," Renee said after a few moments of silence. "Perhaps he's just curious to see what we'll offer him."

"It's clear that he has the upper hand, whether he knows it or not," Wymack groaned. "Okay. I suppose this is what I signed up for when I asked you two to find him. Fuck on out of here and let me think."

Renee stood up and went over to Andrew. "Are you going to stay with him?" she asked, jerking her head in Kevin's direction.

"Unfortunately," Andrew replied. She smiled softly before leaving, letting the door swing shut behind her.

Wymack sat down heavily in his seat and rubbed at his forehead, muttering something about needing a drink. Andrew strode over to Kevin, grabbing him by the arm and roughly jerking him to his feet. "Follow me."

Kevin reluctantly followed Andrew out of the cabin and down the hallway, until the two of them stopped at the storage room. Andrew stepped inside, unsheathing three of his knives and placing them on top of a nearby keg of gunpowder. Kevin remained nearly the doorway, his face still pale and form defeated. 

"Stand against the wall. In front of me," Andrew instructed shortly, his tone leaving no room for argument. Kevin shuffled in front of Andrew and put his back to the wall, flattening his palms against the wooden panels and staring at him. 

"What are you doing?" he asked, green eyes widening a fraction when Andrew picked up his shortest knife and twirled it in the air.

"Proving a point." 

"What? What - wait - "

Kevin's voice cut off abruptly when Andrew turned around and threw the knife with all his might at Kevin. It landed barely an inch away from Kevin's left ear, the hilt vibrating wildly from the force.

"Still don't believe me?" Andrew said quietly when Kevin remained stunned, even paler than before if that was possible. "Okay. I will try again."

"Andrew - "

He cut Kevin off again by throwing his second knife, this time lodging it a hair's width from the top of Kevin's head. He shrunk away from the blade, and almost tripped over himself running from the wall when Andrew picked up his third and last knife.

"That's enough. Andrew. I-I get it," he burst out while Andrew raised his eyebrows.

"Third time's the charm."

"Ple - I understand. I get it." Kevin trailed off as Andrew stepped closer to him, tossing his knife back and forth between his hands.

"I keep my promises, Day. If Nathaniel tries anything, I won't be so merciful."

Some of the color was beginning to return to Kevin's face. "But - you made him a promise, too."

"A deal is not the same as a promise," Andrew said. "Now are you done, or do you need to cuddle some whiskey too?"

His eyebrows pressed together. Andrew stared him down for an endless minute, before Kevin let out a tremulous sigh and nodded. "Okay. I'll come tomorrow."

"Good." Slipping his knives back inside their sheathes, Andrew flexed his fingers before running them along the new marks he'd made in the wall. Kevin paused, gazing at Andrew with a strange expression on his face, before he left the room.

Andrew stayed only a moment longer to sweep his gaze around at the supplies they had left. Stacks of gunpowder and water barrels were pressed against one corner, while unpolished swords and nets hung off the opposite wall. They definitely had enough water to last at least another month, but without sufficient food or weaponry the Foxes were looking at a short two weeks. It seemed dire, but given the fact that no one, not even Andrew, knew how to navigate these Forbidden Waters, it was very much plausible.

His eyes wandered to the very back wall of the room, and they fell on a large, dusty glass tank. It was supported by long wooden beams for carrying - transporting something, Andrew guessed. A mermaid.

The Foxes never dabbled in the whole mermaid trade business. Wymack was vehemently against it, calling the practice immoral and "shit for heartless bastards," and so were the rest of the Foxes to some degree. But it was still customary for every ship to carry one mermaid tank with them, even though people like the Foxes might never use them.

Andrew pursed his lips, staring at the tank. He imagined Nathaniel's icy blue eyes, the merman still clearly preserved in his memory. Suppressing the flicker of _something_ \- maybe doubt, maybe apprehension - in his gut, Andrew left the room and shut the door tightly.

\-- 

Nathaniel sometimes dreamed about walking. 

He only did use his powers once, but he quickly learned that turning human was not worth the consequences. His gills had disappeared, sealing together while his chest felt like it was exploding and caving in at once. His tail had felt like it was on fire, a searing agony blazing from his hips to his fin, until his scales melted away and left behind smooth, untouched skin. 

But the worst pain had been the loss of his powers. Nathaniel was left naked and vulnerable, unable to transform into the monster he was to fend predators off. He was completely human, he was what Mary was before she'd been turned, and Nathaniel could barely handle it. Being forced to learn how to walk while acting as a stowaway had been torture, much less defending himself from prying eyes and hands. 

A few of the scars on his chest had been relics from his short time as a human. 

Nathaniel knew that if he transformed often enough, he'd be able to control the pain he felt. But the water was home to him no matter how much he wanted to escape his father's grip, and Nathaniel left the walking to his dreams.

It only reinforced what he already knew: he could either be a human or a monster - not both.

He woke up from a nightmare in which he was standing on a sandy beach while watching his mother struggled listlessly in the shallows, her gills flapping uselessly as she suffocated on the air. Nathaniel desperately wriggled his tail, making sure it was still there, and glanced up at the moon. 

It couldn't have been later than midnight, but Nathaniel wasn't going to risk repeating that dream. He darted away toward his caves, swimming desperately like he was going to die if he slowed down.

Nathaniel swam through the passages that branched out of the main cavern, and he kept swimming until he no longer felt the ghost of his mother draped over his shoulders. Breathing heavily, he slowly made his way back into the main chamber of the cave, poking his head above the surface and sighing. 

There was no other noise except for the occasional drop of water falling from the ceiling. Nathaniel drifted in the cool water, staring blankly into space as he turned over the memories of his dreams and Mary and strangely enough, _Andrew._

The sailor couldn't have been much older than Nathaniel was, but one look at his face told Nathaniel that Andrew must have been forced to grow up all too soon. His face had been a barren landscape, coated in the snowy paleness of his skin and hair. If Nathaniel hadn't known better, he would've thought that Andrew was an angel - a damaged one, but one nonetheless.

Andrew was a threat. He wanted something from Nathaniel that he wasn't sure he could give, and he wanted to give something to Nathaniel that was impossible to achieve. From the strange bandages wrapped around his forearms to the scars running across his knuckles to the knives strapped to his hips, Andrew was every bit _not_ angelic.

When Andrew had claimed he could help him, Nathaniel had known that it would turn out to be nothing more than a failed wish. But the young sailor had looked so sure of himself, so _confident,_ that Nathaniel couldn't help the tug of curiosity in his chest. He couldn't help the dangerous flicker of - what was it - _hope_ fluttering within his ribcage, a bird stretching its long-broken wings again. 

Hope was a dangerous, disquieting thing, but he thought he perhaps liked it.

\-- 

In the time that Nathaniel had given Andrew to meet him with Renee and Kevin, he was already starting to come up with a plan. 

Admittedly, it wasn't a nice one. Renee looked vastly disappointed when Andrew told her about it, but he knew that it wasn't all directed at him. She knew better than to judge Andrew's morals with her own, that Andrew was grayer than she could ever hope to be and he saw things infinitely differently from her. 

Still, it didn't stop the crease from forming between Renee's brows, and she constantly touched the cross dangling off her neck while Andrew told her. 

"I don't like it," she said slowly once he finished, "but that may be our best bet."

Andrew sat back, taking a drink from his water flask. "If you really wanted to be goody-two-shoes, you should not be here."

Renee sighed. "I know."

"Then what's keeping you here?" Andrew asked. He didn't know why he suddenly felt so defensive. Maybe it was because he was scared that he'd disappointed Renee, that he was scared he'd ruined the one good thing that had happened to him ever since joining the Foxes (besides Bee, their caretaker of sorts back at the Foxes' port). 

Whatever this feeling was, Andrew didn't like it. He shouldn't even have been feeling it.

Renee's eyes softened, and her lips twitched in a sad smile. "I can't live without sailing, but I want to be on the good side. I knew Wymack recruited his crewmates on the basis of giving them second chances, and I knew that the Foxes were good. We might not be numerous, but we're getting there. That's why I stay."

"Some of us aren't good," Andrew said flatly. Many of Wymack's first-year recruits, as far as Andrew knew, had left once they'd gotten tired of the whole underdogs-take-on-the-world sentiment. Andrew's lot and Renee's group had been the only sailors to ever stick with Wymack, but Andrew felt that any semblance of good left in him had long been torn out and tossed away.

Renee tilted her head to the side, her expression serene. "You know that's nonsense, Andrew," she said, "and that I don't care about what you did in your past just as much as you don't care about what I did. That's why we work."

Andrew didn't reply, only crossing his feet and tracing the tip of his knife against the floor. Renee continued softly, "We'll make this work."

"Better tell Kevin and the rest," Andrew said, ignoring her silent reassurance.

"Come with me?"

"Yes."

\-- 

It was around midday that Andrew and Renee arrived by Nathaniel's cave, this time with a third person trailing behind them. Nathaniel's head snapped up as soon as he heard the three sets of footsteps, pushing himself from the darkness of the cave into the open water. 

He focused on Andrew first. He was without a weapon this time, expression still blank as his brown eyes settled on Nathaniel. Then his gaze slid past Andrew, past the girl Renee, to - the man wearing the number 2 on his face.

Oh. 

Kevin Day. 

By the looks of it, Kevin was still fighting not to see Nathaniel as his father, but as his son instead. By the looks of it, Kevin was failing miserably.

He tried not to let that knowledge upturn his stomach, tearing his gaze from the black number inked onto Kevin's left cheek and instead focusing on Andrew.

"Have you discovered yet your deal is forfeit?" he asked, putting as much sarcasm into his voice as possible to hide the shakiness in his chest.

"Mm. Not yet. We'll have to run some tests first," Andrew replied. He jerked his head in the direction of Kevin. "Do you recognize him?"

Nathaniel narrowed his eyes. "Vaguely," he said slowly. Kevin raked a hand through his hair and exhaled harshly. Behind him, Renee stepped up, looking like she wanted to say something. 

"We've met before. Well, I...I saw your father," Kevin said. "You remember that?"

"Yes, I remember," Nathaniel affirmed softly.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, wringing his hands. "I didn't know the Butcher had a son."

Nathaniel held Kevin's gaze for a long moment. His green irises seemed just as haunted as Nathaniel felt, and he felt the icy apprehension in his heart thaw just a little. 

"I'm sorry too," he said lowly. There were worlds of regret in his voice, and he knew Kevin recognized them.

Kevin cleared his throat, looking faintly like he wanted to be ill. "I-I've been here only once, but my captain - my _former_ captain - he knew these waters. I overheard him talking with his first mate once about the different...nooks and crannies, per se, of this place. I think I know a place that will be safe for you."

"Do you now?" Nathaniel's eyes narrowed. "You can't know these waters better than I do."

"Oh, but he might," Andrew broke in.

"We want to help you, Nathaniel," Renee said, "as much as we can before we leave. We just need you to show us the way out."

"We'll show you where we think it's safe for you," Kevin said. "It's secluded and no one knows about it. Y-You just have to follow us."

Nathaniel knew that he shouldn't trust these sailors. He couldn't trust anyone except for himself, especially because he was a merman. But maybe it was the blankness in Andrew's face that convinced him to give these sailors a chance. Maybe it was that soft smile on Renee's face, or the unwarranted familiarity of Kevin Day. 

Maybe it was that hope in Nathaniel's chest, fluttering as weakly as his beating heart.

He let the three of them guide him to...wherever they were taking him. Nathaniel followed them, but he was careful to remain in the deeper end of the waters. They walked for what felt like an hour until they finally stopped by a small, rocky cove some ways into the island, sheltered by tall trees and craggy boulders.

Nathaniel ventured into the cove, eyes darting around and taking in his surroundings. Andrew remained by the mouth, arms crossed and stone-faced. Kevin hovered beside him, and Nathaniel almost wanted to laugh at how ridiculously tall Kevin was compared to Andrew. 

Then Renee stepped forward, a kind smile lighting up her features. "We know it's not the best, and it's a temporary measure at the best. It's hard for anyone else to access or find."

"What am I supposed to do with this place?" Nathaniel asked, suddenly leery of Renee's kindness. She was wading into the water, boots only a few feet from the end of Nathaniel's tail, and she was kneeling down. 

Andrew called out from behind her, "When I said 'escape,' I never specified which kind."

Confusion blanked Nathaniel's mind at first. Staring at Andrew while trying to comprehend his words was his first mistake. 

(Stupid. So _stupid._ His father would have killed him for this complacency.)

By the time Nathaniel finally realized what Andrew was saying, Renee's eyes were sliding over his shoulder at something behind him. A sick shudder ran down Nathaniel's spine, twisting his stomach and freezing his heart at the dreadful realization that - _this was a trap,_ he'd been _tricked_ and _this is why he couldn't trust anyone or anything -_

He felt the net dropping over him before he could even think to start moving. Nathaniel's ice-cold fear gave away to rage - _burning_ rage. 

He knew his eyes were glowing yellow and his fangs were outstretched from the sickeningly guilty look on Renee's face and Kevin's wide-eyed paleness. Nathaniel clawed at the net, hissing and writhing and twisting. Someone - multiple people - cursed and he felt hands grabbing onto his shoulders, and he almost bit someone's hand off in blind fury and desperation. 

He only stopped fighting when he felt someone grab his arm and yank it back, hard enough that he felt his shoulder move unnaturally. Nathaniel flinched at the hot pain lancing through his body, his breaths already starting to wheeze from where his gills were above the water.

"Bloody hell," someone said from behind him, also trying to catch their breath. Nathaniel didn't hear him. He was too busy glaring at Andrew Fucking Minyard, summoning the strength to snarl at him before he passed out for good.

"Fuck you," he spat venomously.

Andrew's smile was cruel and hollow as he tapped two fingers to his temple. "Better luck next time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this doesn't seem too rushed!! the reason nathaniel is taken by the foxes so soon is bc nathan is only gone for so long, and i'm an impatient lil shit and i want some action already :D
> 
> nathaniel being taken by andrew n co would be the equivalent of the columbia trip - kinda. we'll see more in the next chapter! (sorry bout the cliffhanger buds)


	7. lungs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the foxes discover nathaniel's secret talent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: panic attacks, discussion of self-harm

The walk back to the ship was saturated with tense silence. Andrew and Renee led the way, while Matt, Seth, Nicky, and Dan each took turns holding the tank they'd put Nathaniel in. Nicky's eyes were filled with guilty tears as he stared at the unconscious merman trapped within the glass, but Andrew had never bothered to regret any of his actions, and he wasn't about to start now.

He might have made a deal with Nathaniel, but he also had promises with his family to keep. 

Renee was stiff and quiet beside Andrew, her eyes trained on the ground and only flickering up long enough to check that they were still headed in the right direction. Normally her reticence wouldn't have irked at Andrew so much, but that nagging thought that he was a _disappointment_ still tugged at him without prevail.

He glanced at Renee. "What are you thinking about?" he asked, parroting the question she always asked him whenever he was having an off day. 

She met his gaze steadily, and a weak smile pulled at her lips. "I'm just trying to make peace with this whole thing," she said quietly. 

"I am not sorry," Andrew said brusquely. 

"I know you aren't." Renee's eyes were soft when she looked at him. "And it's okay."

Andrew looked away, tugging at the bandages covering his scars. He'd have to change them soon; they were getting dirty and gross. 

Renee had always been the morally correct one out of the two of them, and Andrew was the blemish that rotted the canvas. He did what was strictly necessary to protect what was his. Renee could be the one to pick up after his storms.

They managed to get up the ship and deposit Nathaniel in the large storage room without incident. Matt and Nicky lingered briefly to stare at the unconscious merman, something conflicted in their eyes.

"He's just...he looks so young," Nicky said softly, as if Andrew would listen or care.

"You should know," Andrew said slowly, "that the world does not have an age limit for cruelty."

Nicky turned wide eyes from Nathaniel's scarred torso to Andrew's impassive face. "Andrew - "

"Wymack is waiting." He turned around, ignoring his cousin's lingering stare on his back, and slammed the door loudly. 

Before he went to Wymack's cabin, he detoured to the sleeping quarters and found his hammock. Andrew lifted his pillow and slipped a knife into its sheath by his hip, before grabbing the roll of bandages hidden underneath. 

Swiftly, he undid his own bandages, revealing the ragged terrain beneath. Andrew undid and redid his bands mechanically, tying the fabric off tightly so that it wouldn't fall. 

His eyes flickered to his knives as he picked up his old bandages to throw away. 

He'd tossed the knife he used to inflict the scars on himself into the ocean the moment he'd decided his own blood was not worth spilling anymore. He'd thrown it with all his might, the blade still stained with red, and watched it sink below the surface where he'd never find it again.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd genuinely smiled, but the curve of his lips as he watched his knife disappear was the closest to _free_ he'd ever felt.

Andrew put his old bandages away to toss aside later, hiding them under his pillow, and joined the rest of the Foxes where they'd gathered in Wymack's cabin.

\-- 

Nathaniel woke up in water and darkness.

He lashed out as best he could, only to be met by something solid. Hot pain lanced up his entire arm, and Nathaniel barely managed to hold back a loud yelp.

He struggled to remain calm, counting to fifty forwards and backwards as he blinked rapidly, waiting for the black spots in his vision to fade away before he moved again. The pain in his shoulder eventually faded to an uncomfortable numbness.

Nathaniel wasn't healing - at least, he wasn't healing as fast as he should've. It might've had something to do with the fact that he had been unconscious or that he was somewhere away from his home, and - 

Yes, he needed to find out where the hell he was.

Nathaniel blinked owlishly as he took in his surroundings. He was in a relatively dim room, with only the light from two nearby lamps to guide him. He looked up, blindly reaching upwards until his hand met something smooth and cold. It felt like glass. 

He tried to move his tail, which was starting to ache from being curled for so long, but he could barely stretch out, much less sit up. Nathaniel struggled to stave off his growing fear, pressing his palm against the glass in front of him before clutching his injured shoulder. Pain flared again in his body when he tried to move his bad arm, and it was enough to send Nathaniel careening into panic.

Curling in on himself, Nathaniel pressed his forehead to the floor of the tank he was being kept in and struggled to breathe. His heart beat obnoxiously loudly, and blood roared in his ears like angry waves as he dug blunt nails into his hips. His chest felt like it was caving in, like someone was clawing him apart from the inside out. 

A ragged gasp tore itself from Nathaniel's throat, the desperate noise muffled by the water. His vision wavered between clear and unclear, and the roar in his ears was replaced by his father's screaming voice and Lola's cackle and Mary's last, wheezing breaths that sounded too much like his own.

To say his father was going to be angry would be an understatement.

No, he was going to wreak havoc on both Nathaniel and Andrew and whoever else had conspired to take him - and he was going to drag it out as long as he wanted to. It didn't matter that his father was gone for the time being. Nathan Wesninski always had the upper hand.

Nathaniel eventually managed to slow his breathing down by blocking out his father's voice and instead focusing on the gently said words of the story Mary had always told him as a baby.

 _The ocean is afraid of me,_ she'd said, gently stroking his hair and laying a light kiss on his forehead. _No, that is not a maelstrom brewing. That is my fist, that is my voice, that is my strength. Yes, the ocean is afraid of me._

He took in another shuddering breath, his lungs aching brutally. Mary's voice faded into a pleasant whisper, and Nathan was completely gone. For now.

Nathaniel lifted his head tiredly, though he knew he couldn't rest. He had to find a way out, for his own sake and the sake of his captors. 

Anger flared in his chest at the memory of Andrew's parting words before Nathaniel had passed out. _Better luck next time._

He bared his teeth in a silent snarl. He was pissed off, at the sailors for capturing him and at himself for letting them, and he wanted them to leave and never let him see their sorry faces again - but he would never wish the Butcher's wrath on anyone. Not even on the people who tricked and betrayed him.

(But then again, that was his own fault for giving them something to betray).

Nathaniel pushed himself up, gritting his teeth against the pain of his shoulder as he traced his good hand against the rim of the tank. He forced himself to breathe through the nauseating pain, only stopping his fingers when they brushed against a cold piece of metal. A latch. 

He couldn't possibly be able to undo the latch from the inside, but Nathaniel tried anyways. He pushed against it, punched it, knocked against it with his good shoulder, and only succeeded in shifting the tank over by an inch. 

Breathing heavily, Nathaniel sank to the ground. He felt sick and exhausted, but he could already feel the phantom sensations of Nathan's fury and Lola's punishments, and he was struck with the ill urge to _escape, escape, escape._

But Nathaniel closed his eyes anyways, his eyelids feeling like they were made of solid metal, unable to stop himself from drifting away.

"The ocean is afraid of me," he mumbled. "The ocean is afraid of me."

\-- 

A loud thud jerked Nathaniel out of a nightmarish sleep. He swore he could still feel Lola's hands on him as he struggled to adjust to the light, his heart beating wildly in his temples and gills fluttering uselessly. 

Frantically, he tried to suck in air, but his chest felt like it was on fire and his gills would not work. Nathaniel rolled over, pressing his palm desperately against the glass like he could break his way through. 

Something moved in the shadows. Nathaniel watched through fading vision a girl - she looked like Renee - walking toward him. Her kind smile faded when she saw the raw panic on Nathaniel's face, and she quickly ran over to him and started undoing the latches.

Her voice filtered in as soon as she undid the first one, but Nathaniel still couldn't breathe.

" - okay. Just hold on," she was saying soothingly. Nathaniel heard her but didn't register her words properly, not until she finally opened the latches enough that she could open the lid of the tank an inch. Fresh air immediately entered and Nathaniel gasped, loud and shuddering - greedily. 

Renee leaned down as Nathaniel forced air back through his gills. She smiled gently at him when he finally gained the strength to look at her. 

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I promise this is just temporary."

Nathaniel couldn't find it in him to glare at her, not when she'd saved him from suffocation. He didn't feel like talking, his throat still clamped shut from his earlier panic and nightmare. He slid down to the floor of the tank, and nodded slowly.

She pressed a hand against the outer surface, before straightening up. She left, presumably to fetch the rest of her crew or captain, leaving Nathaniel to his own thoughts.

He glanced up at the lid. Renee had left them open so that Nathaniel could have fresh air, but not nearly loose enough that Nathaniel could completely remove the lid itself. 

He reached up, testing out his shoulder. It still hurt, but not nearly as much anymore. He tried jostling the latches, and they moved slightly under his force.

It wasn't much, but it was more than enough.

Nathaniel braced himself, gathering his strength. This would hurt, and it was more than likely the glass would shatter onto him; but he'd survived much, much worse.

He crashed against the lid with all his might. It didn't budge much, but Nathaniel did it again, and again, and again. He did it until his shoulder and arms were numb, until he heard the pop of a latch springing open. 

Gritting his teeth, Nathaniel surged upward one more time. The other latch holding the lid down sprang open, but Nathaniel's momentum sent both him and the tank crashing to the floor.

There was a brief surge of pain and adrenaline, all the water spilled onto the ground, and then there was blood.

\-- 

"Okay. Now that we've settled everything else," Wymack said after nearly an hour of talking and going over the maps that Nicky and his group had drawn, "we should probably address the elephant in the room."

"You mean, the mermaid. What do we do about him?" Allison asked, looking up from where she was examining her nails.

"We force him to lead us out of here," Seth said, as if it really was that simple. 

"No. I saw him," Kevin murmured, lifting his head from his hands. He turned to gaze at Andrew. "You saw him too. You saw his face."

Ah, Andrew did indeed remember the look that came across Nathaniel's face when he realized he'd been led into a trap. First there was the confusion, then the shock of understanding, then the utter _hatred_ that turned his blue eyes into storming maelstroms. 

In that moment, Andrew thought he could understand why Kevin was so afraid of the Wesninskis and their kind.

He shrugged, leaning against the back of Kevin's chair and propping his chin in his hand. "If he's out of his home turf he will be more likely to talk. We have the upper hand."

Kevin opened his mouth to protest, but Andrew interrupted him again. "If he will not talk then I will make him."

"Don't kill him, Andrew," Wymack said dryly. Abby murmured her agreement, glancing at her pocket watch and pursing her lips. 

"Whatever. As long as we can get the hell out of here," Seth grumbled. "Tired of this place."

"What happens when they found out we took one of their mermen?" Wymack asked, turning his gaze to Kevin, who shuddered.

"They'll look for him," he said roughly. "And when they find him, they'll punish him. And they'll probably try to kill us."

"Why can't we just kill them ourselves first?" Seth asked, and Kevin glared at him in a way that screamed _wow you are such an idiot._

Luckily, Abby stepped in. "We don't kill anyone," she said sternly. "We will hurt no one."

"Or at least try," Allison added.

Abby nodded approvingly, seeing as Seth had shut up now, and glanced at Renee, who was standing beside Andrew. "Renee, do you maybe want to check on him?" 

"Of course." She left, closing the door lightly behind her. 

Andrew tapped his nails against Kevin's chair, silence falling over the Foxes until Renee returned. 

When she finally came back, her kind smile had disappeared and her eyes were shadowed. Andrew lifted an eyebrow at her, but she just shook her head and returned to her position next to him. 

"Was he okay?" Wymack asked. 

"I...loosened the latches a bit, so the lid was open," Renee said, ignoring Seth's harsh protests and Abby's look of concern. "He wasn't getting enough air."

"Oh." Nicky suddenly looked guilty, scratching at his neck. "Oh, was he..."

"He's alright now." Renee laced her fingers together, leaning forward. "Perhaps we should - "

Her voice was cut off by a piercing shatter from down the hall, followed by a loud thud. Dan immediately stood up, demanding, “What was that?” but Andrew was already out the door. He knew Renee was close behind him judging by the sound of her light footsteps, and close after her was Kevin. 

He abruptly stopped outside of the door where they’d put Nathaniel’s tank, eyes trained on the floor. Water was leaking beneath the door and into the hallway, and Andrew thought that he could see faint traces of red in it.

Ignoring Kevin’s trembling comment and Matt’s concerned questions, he shoved the door open and stepped inside and - 

There was Nathaniel, hunched over and trembling next to the shattered remains of the tank. His shoulder was cut up with shards of glass, blood leaking down his skin and onto the floor and - 

His tail was gone.

In its place was a pair of very, very real _human_ legs.

There were very few times in his life that Andrew was ever struck speechless - in fact, he could count them on one hand - but this was something else.

"Mother of God," Wymack muttered, scrubbing a hand furiously over his face when he saw Nathaniel's curled form. The rest of the Foxes stared at him in shocked silence, mouths agape and eyes wide. Andrew himself couldn't even move, too busy staring at Nathaniel's lack of gills and crimson tail.

He looked up, arms covering his stomach and shivering. A self-deprecating smile crossed his face when he noticed the gathered crowd. "Oh," he said, his voice strained. "Hello."

"You're a...you have _legs,_ " Kevin breathed, eyes impossibly wide.

Nathaniel glanced down at himself sarcastically, before glaring at Kevin. "Maybe if you would be so kind as to let me go home, I would be able to turn back," he said dryly.

The Foxes parted for Abby to push her way through. A dismayed gasp passed through her lips, presumably at the sight of Nathaniel's numerous scars and the bruises and cuts littering his shoulders, but she quickly took off her coat and draped it over Nathaniel's trembling body.

The young man hissed, trying to shake her hands off, before wincing and grabbing his arm. Andrew knew that Aaron had dislocated Nathaniel's shoulder in his fight to escape, but the sight still made his chest turn cold.

"Someone get him clothes," Abby said while Nathaniel leaned over to press his forehead to his knees. Allison and Nicky both ran out of the room. Then Abby turned back to Nathaniel and asked gently, "Can you walk?"

"Stop touching me," Nathaniel spat, and she did. Abby lifted her hands and stepped back, though she obviously wanted to help Nathaniel. Andrew blamed her motherly instincts for broken creatures.

Wymack stepped forward toward Nathaniel. Andrew noticed the barely there flinch that ran through Nathaniel's body at the sight of their coach, and tilted his head to the side. 

"Can you walk?" Wymack asked. His voice sounded gruff, but Andrew could hear his softened edges from years of practice. 

Nathaniel glared up at Wymack, clutching Abby's coat around his body and inhaling sharply like he was breathing for the first time. Blood was already staining through the fabric of Abby's clothes, and from the pained expression on the nurse's face, Andrew knew that Abby was just barely restraining herself from trying to touch Nathaniel again.

After a tense silence, Nathaniel stiffly said, "Yes."

Wymack stepped back to give him space. Andrew could already see where this was going, that Nathaniel was more tenacious than Andrew had given him credit for, that this wasn't going to end well for him at all. 

(Nathaniel was teetering the fine line between bravery and idiocy. With his side pierced with glass and stained with red, with his evident weakness and lack of armor, he was still going to charge into battle anyways).

Nathaniel paused for a moment, as if he was gathering his strength. Renee stepped forward as he pushed himself up, the tremors running through his body suddenly increasing by tenfold. Nathaniel shot a glare at anyone who tried to approach him, managing to stand up without collapsing. 

It was when he tried to take a step forward that it went wrong. 

His knees buckled, and Nathaniel crumpled to the floor, managing to catch himself on his bad arm before his face smacked against the ground. 

Abby gasped and rushed forward, but Nathaniel, the stupid idiot, pushed himself up and tried to get to his feet again.

"No. You clearly can't walk." Wymack's voice shut his futile efforts down. "Let us help you, and we'll figure this whole mess out."

Nathaniel muttered something that sounded like, "You started it," but sat up, breathing heavily. "I don't need your help. Just give me a few fucking minutes."

"You're going to hurt yourself," Abby murmured. 

Footsteps approaching signaled Allison and Nicky's return. Allison stepped to the front while Nicky continued down the hall. "We don't know what size he is," she said, "but we left a bunch of clothes at Abby's office."

"I need to treat your injuries," Abby insisted. "Please, Nathaniel."

Matt pushed forward and knelt down next to Nathaniel. "I'll carry you," he offered.

Nathaniel glared at him. "I did not ask for your help."

"You need it," Andrew said flatly. Nathaniel turned burning blue irises toward him, his mouth twisted in a way that made Andrew brace himself for an onslaught of bitter insults. 

Instead Nathaniel remained silent for an endless minute, before breaking off his staring contest with Andrew and looping his good arm around Matt's broad shoulders. A relieved smile broke through Matt's face as he slipped a careful arm underneath the crooks of Nathaniel's knees and his other arm around his waist. Hoisting Nathaniel up like he weighed nothing, Matt turned to Abby. "Your office?"

"Yeah," she murmured, ushering the two of them out. Andrew stared down at the bloodstained remnants of glass and water, ignoring the Foxes' stares on him. His skin prickled uncomfortably, but he didn't let it show on his face.

Wymack finally cleared his throat. "Well that was something. Kevin, you and I are cleaning this up. Everyone else, you are dismissed."

Andrew stepped out first and headed in the direction of Abby's office.


	8. the missing fox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> andrew and nathaniel clear up a few things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> discussions of nathaniel's backstory as well as one line referencing andrew's past, but none are explicit. 
> 
> (thank you so much for your comments they always make my day - or night, rather, bc i keep writing to procrastinate but whatever)

The only thing Nathaniel could register was the pain, the glass shards stuck in his shoulders and hands, the uncomfortable feeling of warm blood drying. 

The man carrying him tried not to jostle him too much, introducing himself as Matt as he took him down to a cabin. Nathaniel ignored him, ill and dizzy from his injuries. He couldn't heal now - not when he'd lost his powers. He was practically ripe for the plucking.

Nathaniel was set on a small bed, and he immediately recoiled from Matt's comforting touch. A sad look crossed his face, but he obediently withdrew his hands.

The older woman - a doctor of sorts - crouched down in front of him. "My name is Abby," she said, her voice soft and motherly. Nathaniel nearly cringed away from her, from how much she reminded him of Mary whenever she wasn't violent or scared, when she'd whisper lullabies to Nathaniel before he fell asleep.

Blinking, he forced himself to stop fidgeting and took a deep breath. "You know my name already."

Abby nodded slowly. She acted like she was talking to a wounded animal - which, to be fair, was true. Turning around, she told Matt, "Why don't you go help David and Kevin?"

Matt tore his gaze from Nathaniel and then nodded, retreating. On his way out he yelped and cursed, "Jesus, Andrew. Stop sneaking around."

Anger flickered in Nathaniel's chest at the mention of the sailor's name, the one he'd stupidly decided to trust. After all, Andrew was the reason Nathaniel was sporting a pair of legs right now and an inane urge to just _run._

He'd managed to put on a pair of pants that fit but couldn't put on a shit yet because of all the stupid glass. Abby was cleaning the blood off his skin when the door opened again, and in came Andrew. His eyes found Nathaniel almost immediately, and Nathaniel bared his teeth in a greeting.

He wasn't going to be the first person to talk, so he gritted his teeth and remained quiet as Abby began the arduous process of taking the glass shards out. The pain wasn't bad at all. Nathaniel had endured so much worse, and he had the scars to prove it.

Andrew remained by the doorway, arms crossed and staring at a spot on the wall. At one point, Abby asked without looking over her shoulder, "Since you're here, Andrew, could you hand me that roll of bandages?"

Nathaniel watched as Andrew grabbed the bandages and tossed it at Abby, who caught it with ease. She slowly began to wrap Nathaniel's arms in them, whispering apologies as Nathaniel tensed whenever her fingers brushed a little too close to his scars.

He hated that Andrew obviously took notice to his flinches.

He hated that the dead expression in Andrew's eyes flickered ever-so-slightly to accommodate...something else. Nathaniel couldn't place a name to that weird look, and he didn't think he wanted to.

He even hated the bandages running up both of Andrew's forearms.

Eventually Abby finished patching Nathaniel up and moved on to his shoulder. She had him lie down on the bed and gently took his injured arm in her hands. 

"This will feel a little uncomfortable," she warned. Nathaniel just pursed his lips and took the pain, though once Abby had successfully put his shoulder back in place the pain went down to an uncomfortable numbness.

Nathaniel sat up, sighing. Abby had a small smile on her face, and he felt so disoriented he had to look away.

No one had ever looked at Nathaniel with anything other than lust or disgust or ugly pride whenever he dragged in a catch. To see Abby with her face twisted into some semblance of comfort was as strange as Nathaniel having to navigate the world without his tail.

"I'm going to check on Kevin," she told Andrew, who was still there, before turning back to Nathaniel and tucking a shirt into his arms. "Will you be alright here?"

Nathaniel slowly raised one eyebrow as he slipped it on, eyeing Andrew in the corner. He shrugged, and instead settled for saying, "Thank you." Abby's smile widened, then she ducked out of the office and headed down the hallway, leaving Nathaniel alone with Andrew.

Hatred began to bubble up again inside of Nathaniel, but he forced it down where he wouldn't be able to touch it. He was at Andrew's mercy; his throat was practically already in danger of being slit by one of Andrew's knives.

Andrew stared at him for a minute, enough time for Nathaniel to register that his eyes weren't actually gold or brown, but a halfway mix of both. Hazel. 

Ordinary for a rather intriguing man. 

Nathaniel shook off any thoughts on Andrew's appearance when he spoke up. 

"A truth game," he said. Nathaniel raised his eyebrow, and he added, "I ask you questions and you answer honestly. No lies."

"And if I do?" Nathaniel asked, just to be annoying. Andrew's eye twitched, and he promptly unsheathed his knife and twirled it gracefully on his fingers.

"You would not want to."

Ignoring the sudden dryness of his throat, Nathaniel asked again, "And what will I get out of it?"

Andrew's eyes sparked. "You ask me questions in return."

"Sounds rather boring," Nathaniel said, smiling sarcastically. "I didn't think interrogations were up your alley. I thought you were more the tricking-people-and-being-a-general-scumbag type."

"How cruel of you," Andrew deadpanned. "I had promises to keep, and I had to make sure you weren't a threat."

"A threat?" Nathaniel exploded. "If I was really trying to be a threat I'd have dragged you into the fucking depths days ago! You're only bringing more trouble on yourself the longer you keep me here."

"You do not make sense," Andrew continued. "Kevin told me his ghost stories about your kind. I suppose your first instinct should have been to take us down." He tucked his knife away, and Nathaniel's eyes tracked the movement. "First question: why didn't you?"

His anger dissipated, leaving Nathaniel with a sickening emptiness in his gut. Clenching his fists, he looked away from Andrew's burning gaze.

"I don't want to kill any more than I already have to," he said quietly after another minute of silence.

Andrew's only answer was a soft hum. Nathaniel dragged his eyes back up to meet Andrew's, only to find himself completely floored at the lack of judgement in his hazel eyes. Andrew looked like Nathaniel had just told him it was raining, not that he'd only spared his life out of guilt and self-hatred. 

"Okay," Andrew said. "Ask me a question now."

"What?" 

"You answered my question. Now even it out."

Nathaniel scoffed. "What, did I pass your test? Am I no longer a threat?"

"Are those your questions? One at a time, by the way."

There were a hundred questions Nathaniel wanted to ask Andrew. Like why he came here. Why he stayed. Why he insisted on keeping Nathaniel a hostage of sorts, why he saw Nathaniel as a threat. Why he was with Kevin Day. Why was he with this scraggly crew. 

All Nathaniel asked was, "What's under your bandages?"

\-- 

Oh. 

Andrew glanced down at his arm bands, before looking back up at Nathaniel. He was a sharp one, or not. No one paid much attention to Andrew's bandages, only dismissing it as a gimmick or a way to distinguish himself from Aaron. His own lot didn't even question it.

Nathaniel had his own scars, so he was less likely to construe that Andrew's were a way out or pity him. 

Brutal, blunt honesty whenever it was necessary was the closest to a faith that Andrew would ever get, so he shrugged and held out his hands.

"Scars," he said simply.

Nathaniel blinked slowly, eyes falling down to Andrew's hands. He could almost see the thoughts running through Nathaniel's head, but Andrew didn't care. 

He tucked his hands away just as Nathaniel nodded and said, "Okay. What else now?"

Predictable and unpredictable all the same. Andrew really was tired of paradoxes.

He decided to ask, "How can you turn human?"

Nathaniel flinched visibly, before covering his stomach with his arms. "Can I pass?"

Andrew remained silent, slowly tapping his fingers against his elbow. Nathaniel chewed on his lip, hard enough that Andrew thought he might actually bite it off. 

"My mother," he eventually managed to say. The look of bitter sadness staining his face was like blood spreading in water. 

"Okay. Ask me something else."

"When will you let me go home?" Nathaniel asked sullenly. 

Tilting his head to the side, Andrew replied, "Once I find that you are no longer a threat, and once you give us what we want."

"What will it take for you to stop seeing me as a threat?" 

"That's two questions, but you can repay me later," Andrew said. "Tell me your story. Everything."

Nathaniel looked like he would rather swallow glass, but Andrew dragged one of Abby's chairs out and plopped down in front of him. Blue eyes darting away, Nathaniel picked at the cuffs of his sleeves and tried to swing his legs back and forth.

"My father is the Butcher of the Caribbean," he finally said. Andrew leaned closer. "He's called that because when he takes apart the sailors that pass through here, he slashes them into precise-enough pieces that it looks like he used a cleaver. I'm his best hunter. I...I lure people in with the promise of a - a kiss. I take them down to him and his people. I don't usually - I rarely kill them myself.

"It's kill or be killed, in my world. I was taught from my birth that if I wasn't fast enough I was as good as dead. People hunt for me, but I'll hunt for them first. It's always been that way." Nathaniel took a shaky breath, clenching and unclenching his fists. "I want out. But I know that if I leave, it won't be the merchants or hunters that get to me first. It will be my father."

If Nathaniel was a maelstrom, then Andrew was the unlucky ship spiraling deeper and deeper into his vortex.

"That's why I want you to just leave me alone," Nathaniel murmured shortly. "Because the longer you keep me here, the worse you make your own punishment and mine. They will hurt me for letting myself get taken, and they will hurt you - they will _kill_ you - for taking me. It will be better for the both of us."

Andrew's eyebrows furrowed. Nathaniel was a mess - a broken, fucked-up mess - just like the rest of the Foxes. Just like Andrew. 

He was a missing Fox. One that wasn't quite lost yet, but could never be found.

"If you lead us out of here, I will help to set you free," Andrew found himself saying. "Your father is not indestructible." At Andrew's thinly veiled offer, Nathaniel's head snapped up, and he stared at him. 

Eventually, he started smiling, but it was a hollow and tragic one. An empty, breathy laugh tumbled from between his lips, before Nathaniel shook his head. 

"No, you cannot possibly be more stupid than I thought you were," he said. "No one can kill my father."

"Oh." Andrew raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms. "Stop being dramatic."

"Fuck off."

"I will kill him," Andrew said again, firmly.

Nathaniel shook his head, disbelieving. The light of Abby's office cast warped shadows across his face, highlighting his blue glacier irises with a deeper ocean. He looked like an apparition, a hallucination, soft around the edges but still sharp as a knife.

"I don't like you," Nathaniel finally said after glaring at Andrew for another moment, "but I wouldn't wish my father on my worst enemy. Especially not you."

"So you will sacrifice yourself anyways. For what? Congratulations on being a martyr. Killing yourself in a world where no one would mourn you - does it feel good?"

Nathaniel's eyes widened, and his fists tightened in the thin bed sheets. "You still don't know anything," he spat. "I could tell you everything about my life and it still wouldn't prepare you in the end. Facing my father means certain death. You waltzed right into his territory, and I warned you to leave the first chance you got, but you stole me from right under his nose. Do you think he'd take kindly to that?"

"No," Andrew said with equal harshness. "But nothing in my existence has ever been kind, and I certainly don't expect it to start with your family."

"That's no excuse. You're an idiot," Nathaniel argued. He looked livid, eyes blazing where they should have been cold, cheeks flushed where they should have been pale. "I don't need you to die for me. I don't want you to."

He paused, swallowing harshly. Andrew took a step closer where he could almost see the physical rage gripping Nathaniel's body. Twisting his new shirt in his hands, Nathaniel's lips dragged upwards in another barren smile.

"I don't deserve that," he mumbled.

Ah, there it was. The rotten pearl inside Nathaniel's chest, the secret he kept close no matter how much it threatened to cleave him in half. Andrew knew it - hell, he could understand it - because it was there, embedded in his heart walls, and if he paid attention he could feel it with every beat.

He leaned forward so that Nathaniel would be forced to meet his gaze. 

"Not all monsters," he said quietly, "do monstrous things." 

It was something Bee had told him on the rare occasions Andrew actually expressed some sentiment toward her - and even if he didn't have his eidetic memory he would have remembered it anyways.

Nathaniel stared at him like he was finally seeing Andrew for the first time. 

The weight of Nathaniel's gaze started to make Andrew's skin crawl. He snapped his fingers to draw Nathaniel's attention away from his face. 

"You are too broken now to mean any harm," he concluded out loud. 

"Will you let me go now?" Nathaniel asked, his shoulders slumping. He must have been exhausted.

"Only if you promise that you will show us the way out." Andrew stood up, holding a hand out to Nathaniel. "And if you will give me your back."

"How do I know you won't trick me this time?" Nathaniel asked, eyeing Andrew's hand.

"I will not kick those who are already on the ground."

Nathaniel shook his head. "You shouldn't put your life on the line for me."

"Then think of something else I can give you," Andrew shot back. 

Nathaniel stared at him, for one endless minute, before sighing heavily and grasping Andrew's hand in his. "I'll tell you when I do."

"You will have to talk to Wymack and Kevin before you leave," Andrew said, giving Nathaniel's hand a shake but not letting go. "And don't think about backing out now."

"Okay."

"You still can't walk, can you?"

Nathaniel glanced down at his feet, which were still bare. "No," he admitted.

Andrew sighed. "Yes or no?"

"What?" Nathaniel glanced at their connected hands, frowning. "Yes?"

Andrew tugged on his hand, pulling Nathaniel to his feet. He would have collapsed again if Andrew hadn't immediately steadied him, placing both hands against Nathaniel's shoulders and supporting him against his body.

"Oh," Nathaniel murmured, his cheeks red as Andrew pressed his hand to the small of his back.

"Still a yes?"

"Y-Yes."

Andrew grabbed Nathaniel's free arm and looped it around his own neck, letting Nathaniel lean heavily against him. "I won't have to drag you, will I?"

"Fuck you," Nathaniel said halfheartedly, slowly lifting one leg and putting it in front of him.

Getting to the door was an arduous process involving multiple near-falls. Nathaniel's body heat pressed against Andrew's side made his skin crawl and his mind flounder with unwanted memories of unwanted hands - but he knew that Nathaniel was more useless for walking than a sack of rocks. Andrew was tempted to give up and just carry Nathaniel down to Wymack's cabin when he asked, "Is that truth game over?"

Pausing, Andrew replied, "Only if you want it to be."

Nathaniel's voice was small. "I want it to keep going."

"Then it's still going." Andrew poked Nathaniel's calf with his foot. "You are as useless as Kevin when he is drunk."

"Scumbag," Nathaniel muttered again, though his muscles stiffened in determination anyways.


	9. in too deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nathaniel comes up with what he wants from andrew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for not updating in like 10 years!! (ok it was only like 2 weeks but it still felt like a long time) i hit a bit of block with this but i'm BACK AND I'M P U M P E D
> 
> since andrew taking nathaniel aboard the ship was the equivalent of their trip to columbia/the dust in the books, you can start to expect some more andrew/nathaniel "bonding" and,,, raven action!!

"What's the fucking hold-up?" Seth was demanding as Andrew rounded the corner with Nathaniel. "We're basically stranded. Aaron's compass doesn't even fucking work. And now we have - "

Matt drove an elbow into Seth's ribs, effectively shutting him up when he spotted Andrew and Nathaniel. "Uh - "

"Perfect!" Wymack bellowed sarcastically. "Now we can finally talk. The rest of you maggots, either sit down and shut up, or leave."

Andrew let go of Nathaniel, giving him a light push so he could stagger away. He felt ten times better without Nathaniel's weight against him - he knew Nathaniel was in no shape to even try lifting a finger against him, but he didn't want to be touched today. 

Nathaniel managed to gain balance, leaning against the wall but refusing to sit down. He stared at Wymack, and where his eyes should have been hazy with exhaustion, they were sharp.

"Hi." Renee was the first to speak up as the Foxes looked their fill. Nathaniel acknowledged her with only the slightest tilt of his chin, before returning his gaze to Wymack. Andrew would have been a blithering idiot not to notice the wariness in Nathaniel's gaze.

"Maybe we should introduce ourselves," Renee suggested softly. 

Dan was the first to say her name, followed by Allison, then Wymack, and eventually the rest of the Foxes. Kevin remained in the corner closest to Coach, his eyes shadowed and face pale as he stared at Nathaniel.

"Now that we've finished the niceties," Wymack said, "I presume Andrew has tipped you off on why you are...here?" He gestured at Nathaniel, who scoffed. Andrew could barely resist a snort himself. 

"Who left him with the monster?" Allison asked lowly. "That was a bad idea."

"I don't know what impression you were all trying to make on me," Nathaniel retorted before anyone else could speak up, "seeing as you all conspired to take me and - what - coerce me into giving you information? Andrew at least had the gall to be upfront with me."

"Okay, okay," Wymack cut in as the Foxes began to burst into conversation again. "Nathaniel, here's the situation. Like Seth here said, we _are_ basically stranded. I'm sure Andrew has briefed you on this already. The faster you help us, the sooner we can get the hell out of here."

"Maybe kidnapping me wasn't the best strategy," Nathaniel shot back.

"I don't apologize," Andrew deadpanned. 

"What did you even talk about?" Dan asked, rubbing her temples like the mere sight of Andrew was giving her a headache.

"He made me a deal," Nathaniel said, and Kevin immediately grabbed the nearest bottle of rum to chug. "I will help you, but I haven't decided what he'll give me in return."

Renee turned to glance at Andrew, the blatant concern in her expression off-putting and annoying. He knew what she was asking of him. _Don't give too much of yourself away. You've already done too much of that._ He subtly shook his head, unsheathing one of his knives and playing with it. 

"Okay," Dan started, hesitantly.

"I just have to go - home, first." Nathaniel paused, like the words were barbed and hurt him to say. "They need to - the longer I'm away the worse it'll get."

"What will get worse?" Dan asked. Renee intervened before Nathaniel had to say anything else.

"I think it's best if we let Nathaniel go back. This wasn't easy for him," she said softly. "He's already promised to help us, so we've achieved our goals here."

"How do we know to trust him?" Seth asked callously.

"He saved Kevin and his lot," Allison replied after a short silence. "Unfortunately."

"Thanks," Aaron said dryly, the first time he'd spoken at the meeting.

Wymack stared at Andrew, and then Nathaniel, and then Andrew again. His gaze was searching, but Andrew loosened his shoulders to appear nonchalant and grabbed the liquor out of Kevin's shaking hands, taking a swig himself.

Finally, Wymack sighed and said, "Do you need help going, Nathaniel?"

His answer was predictable and immediate. "No." Andrew barely suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

"I'll help," Renee offered, seeing through Nathaniel's mask. The young man bared his teeth at her, but didn't try to move away from her as she rose and approached him. Kevin was the first Fox to leave, probably making a beeline for the liquor cellar. Seth was close behind him. Wymack let Andrew and Renee go, keeping his other explorers behind.

Getting Nathaniel up the stairs was difficult, but having Renee taking some of his weight made the job easier for Andrew. Nathaniel shrugged both of them off when they reached the main deck, clutching onto the railing as he struggled to keep his balance.

"If you fall I won't catch you," Andrew said as he watched Nathaniel's efforts - like a literal fish out of water. In return, he shot Andrew a dirty glare.

Renee glanced between the two of them, before taking a step toward Nathaniel. "I truly am sorry," she said softly when Nathaniel finally found a way to stay on his feet. "We never purposely wanted to hurt you."

Nathaniel gazed at her, his eyes cold but steady. The harshness in his tone was sawed off when he finally replied, "You saved my life." 

Something passed over Renee's face that Andrew couldn't place. It wasn't cold, it wasn't her usual warmth, it was a purgatory, in between. But she nodded, lips twitching in a smile, as Nathaniel looked over the edge of the ship. 

They were docked in the shallows with a wooden ramp that connected them to the land. Andrew presumed it would be easy for Nathaniel to just jump off right there instead of try to walk any further.

He stepped forward before Nathaniel could dive off, holding up a hand to stop him. 

"Have you decided yet?" he asked. 

Nathaniel gazed at him, his eyes flickering down to Andrew's outstretched hand, before going back up to his face. "You will know where to find me. I'll come up with something."

Andrew didn't quite want to say a goodbye, maybe because this thing between them was unfinished - it was just starting, maybe because he knew there was still so much more he wanted to ask. But he stepped back and dropped his hand, watching as Nathaniel hoisted himself over the edge of the railing and dove into the sea.

Renee gripped the railing, peering over the edge. The only traces of Nathaniel were a white cloud of bubbles. 

Andrew didn't stay around. He turned around and started descending downstairs, only to be stopped by Renee's soft voice.

"What do you think he'll ask for?"

"I can't read his mind," Andrew said dryly. 

Renee tilted her head to the side. "I don't want you to give more than you should."

"What makes you think I'll do that?" Andrew eyed the sword hanging off her hip. "Duel?"

She looked reluctant to change the subject, but smiled anyways. "I've been waiting for you to ask."

Andrew managed to take his mind off Nathaniel's haunting eyes during his sword fight with Renee. He came away with one win and a good amount of shallow cuts, which Renee forced him to sit still for as she patched him back up. 

It was dark by the time Andrew emerged on the deck, his arms tingling with soreness. He headed to the edge of the railing, only to be stopped when he spotted something white hanging off the side of the ship.

He reached down and snagged it off the thick ropes, and once his eyes fully adjusted to the darkness he nearly snorted. 

It was Nathaniel's shirt, twisted deliberately so that it would blow in the direction of his caves.

Andrew bundled it up and tucked it under his arm. It was still damp and smelled off the sea, but it was certainly a message. 

_You will know where to find me._

\-- 

In reality, Nathaniel had only been gone for almost a full day. He was lucky to escape Jackson's punishment with only a few gashes running down his back, but those would heal quickly. He'd been careful to leave his human clothes on the shore by his caves, leaving all traces of his secret ability and _adventure_ behind.

The moon flickered over the waters, a giant silver orb, like an eyeball. Nathaniel swam into the caves, sending a school of fish away as he darted through the water. 

It felt - amazing, to have his tail back. Nathaniel hated being a human. Having two legs and lungs felt more cumbersome than having a tail and gills, like he had chains wrapped around his ankles dragging him down to the earth every time he tried to take a step.

Nathaniel grabbed the clothes, which had dried by now, and ran his fingers over the fabric. He leaned his head against the stone, wincing when his cuts brushed against a few stray rocks. He waited until he was sure his wounds had completely healed before trying to move.

Andrew had promised him something in return for Nathaniel's help. All Nathaniel had wanted was for the foolish sailor and his crew to _leave,_ before they saw the true monsters that were Nathan or Lola or Jackson. Nathaniel was a savage like them - Andrew had seen him transform. He didn't need Andrew to ruin him, to drag the darkness embedded in his heart out and make something _good_ out of him. 

He didn't need a savior. 

Oh, but how he _wanted_ one.

Nathaniel thought of Andrew and the knives strapped to his hips, the deftness with which he could spin a blade over his fingertips. He thought of the sword Andrew had pointed in his face when he'd spotted Nathaniel at the cave, he thought of the faint scarring on Andrew's knuckles and the harsher ones that hid underneath his bandages.

Nathaniel may have hated his legs, but he hated his claws and fangs even more. They were the marks of a monster, and if he didn't need to use them - he wouldn't. 

He knew what he wanted from Andrew.

Balling the shirt and pants up, Nathaniel slipped out of the caves and started swimming for the ship - the _Palmetto Foxhole._ He managed to find it, a towering shadow looming in the distance, its belly resting in the shallows without drifting away.

He found the ropes by the side, careful to remain out of sight as he grabbed them and hoisted himself up. The wind was blowing in the perfect direction, so he tied the shirt to the ropes and watched it flutter in the breeze toward his caves. He knew Andrew would figure it out - he was smart enough.

He slipped back underwater before anyone would notice him.

\-- 

Nathaniel was swimming in the vicinity of his caves when he first heard the rustling of brush and sand, and then footsteps. He poked his head above the water in time to see Andrew's familiar figure approaching him, face smooth with apathy and knives clinging to his hips.

"Clever trick," was the first thing Andrew said once he crouched down in front of Nathaniel. "What would you have done if the wind was blowing the other way?"

A half-hearted smile twitched on Nathaniel's lips. "I think you would've been smart enough to figure it out anyways."

Andrew sat down, crossing his legs together and brushing the sand off his knees. "So you've thought of something," he said flatly, not quite a question, but still prompting.

Nathaniel hummed softly, leaning his elbows against the bank. "Yes."

"It took you long enough."

"I told you I didn't want your previous offer," Nathaniel said, his eyes tracing the line of Andrew's jaw and the subtle shifts of gold in his irises. He paused, before saying more slowly, "I said this already. My life isn't worth yours."

Andrew raised his eyebrows. "I can still find a way," he said.

"I don't want you to." Nathaniel chewed on his lip, staring Andrew down. He didn't know if he'd be able to live with himself if Andrew tried to kill Nathan. Trying anything against Nathaniel's father was as stupid as shaking hands with the devil and trusting it with your life - it was certain death.

"Then what do you want?" Andrew asked.

"I want you to teach me how to fight," Nathaniel whispered, resting his chin on his hands as Andrew blinked at him, as if struggling registering his words.

Then he reached toward his hip, drawing one of his knives and twirling it in his hands. "With this?"

"Yes."

Andrew raised an eyebrow, though he didn't say no. "Don't you want to learn how to walk first?"

"I want to learn how to fight," Nathaniel repeated, "and I want you to teach me."

"I want to play another round. Why?"

Truth was a fleeting creature in Nathaniel's world, a butterfly that escaped his lips, a single ray of light that shone into the deepest waters. He never could grasp it, reach for it, and it hurt him to even say it. 

But Andrew had already been exposed to some of Nathaniel's most jagged edges, and he'd never shied away. There was no point in lying anymore, not when Andrew could see right through him.

"When I become human," Nathaniel said quietly, "I lose my powers. I'm...human. As much as I hate my powers, I hate being vulnerable and unable to defend myself." 

"You want control," Andrew said, softly enough that Nathaniel thought he was talking to himself. He didn't miss the way Andrew's eyes flickered to his own wrists for the briefest of seconds, before snapping back up and fixing Nathaniel in an entirely new glare. The intensity of it almost made Nathaniel shake out of his skin. 

"Will you teach me, then?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes." 

Nathaniel almost smiled. He shouldn't have felt the relief or thankfulness he did, but for the first time, Nathaniel could use something to protect himself that wasn't his own hands. It was a little freedom in his prison, and Andrew couldn't possibly know how grateful Nathaniel was.

Something still must've shown on his face, because Andrew glared at him and pressed a finger against Nathaniel's cheek, forcing him to look away. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Do you ever shut up." 

Nathaniel slid back, and Andrew's hand fell away. "You cannot sail forward, or else one of my father's people will see you," he said. "I know that if you instead go east, you'll eventually reach another strip of land. It's still in my father's territory, but it's less explored. No one really sails far enough to get there anyways. I only know about it because I've memorized these waters."

Andrew nodded after a short moment. "And what happens when we get there?"

"There is an abandoned port some ways north on that land," Nathaniel continued. "You can probably find supplies there. It's safer, and it was vacated long before the sailors could use up anything."

"Why was it vacated?"

This time Nathaniel did smile, cruel and humorless. "Why do you think?"

Andrew accepted his answer without batting his eye, only nodding and standing up. "You know where to find me, then," he said, parroting Nathaniel's words easily. 

"Good luck," Nathaniel said. Andrew gazed at him for a moment longer, before nodding curtly and turning to leave. 

Nathaniel was about to leave too when a flash of white caught his eye. He blinked, startled, before finding Andrew's knife lying on the ground. The sun had caught on the sharp, polished blade, reflecting into Nathaniel's face.

For some reason, Nathaniel knew that it was a thank you gift - because Andrew would never say those words out loud. 

He tentatively reached out, picking it up around the wooden hilt. It felt light and deadly, but in Nathaniel's hands it was clumsy. 

Where Andrew had his knife, Nathaniel had his kiss and claws. 

He slid back underwater, taking the blade with him.


	10. capsized

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the foxes make a move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more discussions of andrew's past, talk of child abuse (aaron's past), the twinyards in general
> 
> (not much nathaniel/andrew bonding this chapter but look forward to way more interactions in the next one!! plus a reappearance of a few certain,, birds)

Dan, surprisingly, was the first to run to Andrew once he made his reappearance. She had that no-nonsense look on her face again, but it wasn't like Andrew ever listened to her.

"Did you find him? What did he say?" she demanded. Kevin and Renee joined them, Renee standing close to Dan while Kevin gravitated to Andrew like a shadow.

"We head east. There will be land there," Andrew said. "If we keep on the outer edge of the land we should be able to find our way out of here."

"What about supplies?" Matt asked, joining them.

"He said there is an abandoned port there." Andrew shoved past all of them, tapping Renee lightly on the wrist as a signal to follow him. 

He stopped in front of Wymack's cabin, about to raise his fist to knock on it when it swung open.

"Ah. Perfect," Wymack said, glancing between them. "Any success?"

"We are sailing east," Andrew said. 

"You're sure?"

Andrew nodded, stepping aside and letting Wymack order the rest of the crew around. He ran his fingers absently over his empty sheath, feeling strangely off balance without his knife there. Renee glanced down at his hip, before quirking her eyebrow.

"Your knife," she said.

"My knife."

"Where?"

Andrew glanced at her, crossing his arms so he stopped touching his belt. "I gave it to Nathaniel."

Renee pursed her lips, tilting her head to the side. She knew that Andrew never took kindly to giving away his possessions, especially not his knives, his instruments of control and protection. "Why?"

"He wants to learn how to fight," Andrew said simply, his tone hard enough to let Renee know to drop it. 

She did, smiling slowly and offering, "I can help."

Andrew pretended to think about it. "No."

Renee laughed gently, before stepping aside so she and Andrew could walk side-by-side to the helm. Outside, the Foxes were already working to cut the ropes tying the ship to the shallows and putting away the wooden ramp. Andrew spotted Kevin standing at the helm, staring pensively into the water.

"Now who's lazy?" Andrew asked lowly as he brushed past Kevin, heading for the helm. He started, blinking like he'd been awoken from his sleep, before glaring at him.

"We aren't - I have a bad feeling," he said shortly, turning his gaze toward the faint horizon.

"When do you not." Andrew grabbed one of the pegs, gripping it as he watched the sails unfurl. The sun had disappeared at some point, and he could see faint tendrils of mist creeping toward them in the distance.

"We don't know how far this land in the east is," Kevin said. "Did Nathaniel say?"

"No."

"We could sail for days."

"It's better than having nowhere to go." Renee had appeared, her voice soft like chimes as the ship started to drift away from the shallows. 

"What if this gets us even more lost?" Kevin's face was pinched into a frown. "We have no idea where we are. There are no maps. We're just going to count on his word?"

"Yes," Andrew said blandly. 

"This is dangerous." Kevin was starting to pace, his eyes darting around the deck at their crew. "This is too risky. We're leaving ourselves up to chance."

"You don't know how to play this game any better than we do," Renee reminded him gently. 

"We are fucking _lost._ " Kevin whirled around, his green eyes searching for Andrew's. "No one knows how to navigate these, except the - the _Ravens_ \- and we're relying on some _merman_ \- "

"You, of all people, should know the value of a word," Andrew cut into his tirade. All at once, Kevin seemed to deflate. He slumped against the wooden railing, leaning against it heavily and dragging his gaze to the floor.

Renee let out a quiet breath. "Let's find supplies first. Then we'll go from there."

"One step at a time," Andrew muttered, albeit slightly sarcastically, before turning the wheel rapidly and watching the ship's stern drift to the right. He could feel Renee's gaze on him, warm like honey but piercing like a dagger.

"Yes," she said. "That's what we've always done."

\-- 

The Foxes - whatever they called themselves - had to be on the move by now. Nathaniel knew their ship was out of view from where the heart of Nathan's kingdom resided, but it would still be too dangerous for them to remain on the edge of the Butcher's realm.

Things had been quieter, especially since Nathan was gone. Nathaniel tried not to spend too much time in his caves or swimming around, trying to catch a glimpse of the Foxes' ship, instead staying within Jackson's line of sight. 

This morning brought a heavy layer of fog over the water. Nathaniel darted through the sea, twisting around and watching the light break as it fought through the mist and eventually hit the water. Then he swam over to where Jackson was, swimming near the shallows of a jagged beach.

"Jackson," Nathaniel said softly, his voice clear and cutting through the waters. The merman in question turned around, his eyes narrowing when he saw Nathaniel. 

"What?"

Nathaniel swallowed around the nervous lump in his throat, creating flurries of bubbles with his translucent fins as he swam toward Jackson. 

"What happens to the survivors?" he asked. 

Jackson's face contorted in an ugly sneer. "What," he said, "are you thinking about your little friends that you let go? Because if they haven't left already, they are as good as dead. The Butcher will make sure of that."

Nathaniel's throat suddenly felt impossibly dry even though he was underwater. He thought of Andrew's knife, which he'd left lodged between two rocks by his cave. He thought of Andrew himself, foolishly brave enough to think he could possibly take on the Butcher. 

"I remember when I was young," he started slowly. Jackson had turned away from him, but he could tell he was still listening. "There was a ship. The _HMS Evermore,_ I believe. We let them go."

"Oh, now that's different, Junior." 

"Why?"

Jackson whirled around, and Nathaniel could feel the force of the current hitting him in the chest. "You will stop asking questions," he hissed sharply. "The only thing keeping you alive is your value, Junior. You are Nathan's heir, and you better start acting like it. We are going to spare your little friends - I'm assuming that's who they are, hm - because we are going to wait until your father gets back, and if they are still here we are going to tear them apart limb by limb. So you learn your lesson."

He swam closer to Nathaniel, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him toward him. Nathaniel nearly flinched, hoping Jackson couldn't feel his rapid pulse as he bared his fangs. "We cannot have loose ends in the kingdom, Nathaniel," he sang. "Maybe your friends will have run away by now. If they are smart, they will have. But one way or the other, you will have to start behaving like you are supposed to - or Nathan might not have an heir after all."

Jackson released Nathaniel's wrist and shoved him away. Tucking his hand against his chest, Nathaniel forced himself to remember how to breathe as Jackson swam off. He glanced down at his wrist, where he could see the dark imprints of Jackson's fingers already starting to bruise. 

Never did Nathaniel feel so close to drowning before.

\-- 

Andrew hadn't caught a glimpse of Nathaniel in three days. He contemplated silently to himself just how large this _Butcher's_ kingdom was, as he and Renee rotated between navigation duty.

The fog was a constant, obscuring his vision and spilling over the edges of the ship as Andrew made his way down the stairs. He spotted Abby and Wymack talking by the main mast while everyone else was either manning the sails or the ropes. 

Andrew slipped below decks, looking for the liquor he'd hidden by his hammock. Navigating was a dreadfully boring duty sometimes - all the time - and Andrew relied on the whiskey to get him through it. He never got completely drunk, because then what was the point of navigating the damn ship if he was drunk? He only drank enough that the taste lingered in his mouth as he took the helm.

He spotted movement in the shadows out of the corner of his eye, and his hand automatically twitched toward the knife on his hip. But it was just Aaron, emerging from the other end of the hallway. 

"This merman," he said after a short, tense silence, staring at Andrew. "What are you going to do? Protect him?"

Andrew finally found his coveted bottle, grabbing it and taking a brief swig before answering his brother.

"Contrary to popular belief," he said sardonically, "no."

Aaron raised his eyebrows and his hazel eyes hardened, but he didn't say anything else. Andrew didn't spare a second glance for his twin before he was leaving the room, whiskey clutched in his free hand. 

Yes, Aaron was indeed a conundrum of his own. They'd been separated since birth, Andrew abandoned by a cowardly woman, Aaron kept by a spineless mother. Andrew grew up without a family, living in the streets until a few families took pity on him and let him stay with them - only for Andrew to run away later. He would never forget the way the men there had touched him or violated him, but he could escape.

They'd only found each other once again when the surly officer looking to arrest Andrew for thievery found Aaron instead in the town pub. His uncle Luther Hemmick had tried to reunite the two of them, but Andrew had been too angry at Aaron for being the one Tilda had chosen to keep to notice the bruises accumulating under Aaron's clothes, or the way he flinched back every time Tilda drew near.

So when Andrew did notice, he'd allowed Luther to force a reunion, and he'd allowed Luther to put their "family" back together. 

He waited for months, waiting for the perfect moment to snuff Tilda out. But even before that, Andrew had struck a pact of sorts with Aaron.

He'd said, without room for question, "I promise that I will stop her from touching you. And you promise to stay with me."

Aaron had stared at him through two very bruised eyes, a nearly imperceptible tremble in his lips when he said, quiet as sea foam, "I promise."

Tilda's death had been bloody but quick. Andrew had waited until she was asleep, before grabbing the gun from her bedside table and shooting her straight through the temple. He would've drawn it out for all the pain she'd caused his brother, but he couldn't afford to get caught.

Slipping the gun through Tilda's lifeless fingers was easy. She had always been a cowardly woman, a spineless and worthless excuse of a mother. Of course she'd decided to take her own life.

Getting Aaron out of the house and running with him hadn't been easy. Their journey from their house to the large port where all the merchant ships docked was punctuated with desperate questions and occasional rebellion. But Andrew forced Aaron to follow him, buying their passages onto a ship headed west with what little money he'd stolen.

"You promised not to leave me," Andrew had whispered lowly into the dark, the sea waves rocking the ship under their feet as Aaron asked him for the millionth time where his mother was. 

"I did. _Andrew_ \- "

"Be quiet." 

They'd found Nicky easily because Luther had left Andrew with coordinates and information on where to find his cousin, should he ever be needed. Nicky had accepted them both despite not kn owing them at all and tried to care for them, up until _Drake_ arrived on the _St. Josephine_ and recruited them with the promise of wealth and jobs.

And everything Andrew had worked for and fought for and _killed_ for came to a shattering halt.

Andrew kept his promise to protect Aaron, even at his own expense. And Aaron was going to keep his promise to Andrew. That was all that mattered.

He walked upstairs to join Renee at the helm. The frigid air was helpful in helping Andrew shake off unwanted memories, and he forced himself to pry his aching fingers off the neck of the bottle.

"Hello," Renee greeted him. 

Andrew didn't reply, shouldering his heavy coat and staring into the dim distance. He was fine with just standing there in silence, letting the occasional hiss and subsequent whisper of the ocean waves drown out his thoughts.

"What are you thinking about?" Renee eventually asked. Andrew leveled a flat gaze at her, hands clenching and unclenching in his pockets.

"Hoping for liquor at this port," he said. Renee chuckled, a gale blowing her pale hair across her face as she continued to steer. Andrew watched the sea below.

Perhaps he'd chosen navigation because he'd never been able to control where he went in life. Everything to Andrew was a game of catch-up, a reaction test, a rope stretching him to his limits. 

But if he decided to capsize the _Palmetto Foxhole_ and every occupant on it, then they would all be going down, down, down.


	11. birds of a feather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nathaniel learns how to walk, and subsequently runs his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: ONLY A LEGENDARY FUCKIN ROAST!! CHARACTER DESTROYED!! HELL YEAH!! 
> 
> this is my fav chapter i’ve written so far eep

The Foxes found the port Nathaniel had promised four days after they'd initially started sailing east. It was definitely abandoned, dust and sand coating the empty docks, perfectly preserved rubble. They tied their ship to the dock and jumped onto the land, looking around the place.

It was everything eerie and untouched, like its inhabitants had just stood up and left one day without bothering to take anything with them.

"He wasn't wrong," Dan said quietly as she took in the scene. "This is...I don't know."

"It's strange," Matt supplied for her. Dan nodded in agreement, one hand on her cutlass as she glanced back at the _Palmetto Foxhole,_ adrift in the still sea.

"Let's stop wasting daylight," Wymack said, his voice uncomfortably loud amidst the ringing silence of the empty port. "Nicky, Matt, Seth, and Allison will check out the perimeter. Dan, Kevin, Abby, and I will check the center. Renee, Andrew, and Aaron, you will stay here on lookout."

"Yes, Coach," Renee agreed. Andrew sat down on the edge of the pier as the rest of the Foxes dispersed, trailing the heels of his boots in the water. Renee took post near him, while Aaron stood by the entrance of the port where their ship was docked.

Half a day passed without any sign of possible intruders. Andrew had started tracing patterns into the creaky wooden panels of the pier with his knife when he spotted a flash of red in the water. He sat up, eyes tracking the familiar movement. He'd memorized the color of Nathaniel's tail the moment he saw it: dark crimson, like blood that welled from a deep wound. 

"You found it," was all Nathaniel said once he surfaced, his eyes roaming the empty port. He leaned up, resting his elbows against the pier beside Andrew's legs, fixing him in his sapphire gaze. 

"We did." 

"The supplies might buy you half of another month at most," Nathaniel said quietly. 

"Enough time to get out of here, I suppose."

Nathaniel's expression tightened, but he nodded. "More than enough."

"Come to claim a lesson?" Andrew tapped the blade of his knife against the pier. "Where is the one I gave you?"

"Safe." Nathaniel edged closer to him, but his gaze slid past Andrew. "Renee."

"Hello, Nathaniel," Renee said warmly, joining the two of them. Andrew tucked his knife away, leaning back as Renee sat down on Nathaniel's other side. "It's nice to see you again."

He hummed softly. It was a pleasant sound, a throaty but mellow noise that permeated through the air and through Andrew's chest. "I suppose it's a relief to see you're still alive."

"Thank you for your faith," Andrew said dryly, tearing his gaze away from Nathaniel's face. The soft, helpless chuckle that bubbled from Nathaniel was equal parts melancholy as it was golden, and Andrew suddenly wished Wymack had forced him to go exploring with Nicky instead.

These feelings were surely only spurred on by interest and curiosity. They weren't anything more - they _couldn't_ be anything more. Nathaniel was a temporary presence in Andrew's life, the merman who broke his rules to save him.

Andrew couldn't afford to have his sentiments holding him down, dragging him deeper, acting as an anchor around his ankle tugging him down to the depths. 

But history desperately repeated itself, and Andrew had been tripped up over and over again every time he thought he was making progress. 

He told himself he'd look ahead this time. 

Andrew turned his attention back to Nathaniel when he began tapping against the pier. "Tell me a place, and I will find you," he said firmly, trailing his shoes through the water. He knew that Nathaniel understood what he was talking about from the way his eyebrows creased slightly. 

"There's a pool near the western edge of this port that comes from an underwater cave," he said thoughtfully. "I will meet you there."

"Can I find it easily?"

"It's fairly obvious."

"I will see you at sundown, then."

A slow smile appeared on Nathaniel's face, like the rays of the sun reaching out through a night sky. Someone had tipped a bucket of stars onto Nathaniel, and they manifested themselves in his freckles. "Okay."

Andrew nodded and looked away. The merman slipped away, splashing some water onto Andrew's legs as he swam off. 

Renee sighed gently. "Shall I tell Coach where you're headed?"

"Yes." Andrew stood up, brushing off his legs. "Though I have a feeling we won't be needing the knives today."

"Just be careful."

"You sound like a mockingbird," Andrew said. Renee laughed lightly before turning away, gazing out at the horizon. He retreated back to the ship, strapping one knife onto his hip and grabbing a spare set of clothes, before setting off.

\-- 

Nathaniel navigated the underwater passages with ease, having memorized every single one of them. He gracefully swam through the opening of the underwater cave, following the columns of rocks spiraling upwards until he finally surfaced in the clearing. 

He looked around, hoisting himself up and out of the water, before his gaze fell on Andrew.

He was sitting on a nearby rock close to the edge of the pool, legs crossed as he gazed steadily at Nathaniel. The sunlight fell through the thick covering of trees, splattering his skin in liquid gold. His hair and eyes were ablaze with amber and rose, and if Nathaniel didn't know Andrew was a weathered sailor he'd have called him an ethereal being.

Maybe he still was.

His greeting faltered, and Andrew shifted, lips twitching. "I just remembered," he said, almost nonchalantly, as Nathaniel rested his chin in his hand. "You owe me two truths."

"Oh?" Nathaniel raised his eyebrows, hoping that Andrew didn't notice his moment of weakness.

"Oh." Andrew set the clothes by the ledge and sat back. He offered, "I'll look away," and tilted his head up to stare at the brilliant colors staining the sky. 

Nathaniel couldn't help but feel grateful as he closed his eyes and allowed his transformation to take place. It still hurt, but it was just something he wasn't used to yet. His chest still ached afterwards, and crawling from the pool on two useless legs was cumbersome and difficult. Andrew didn't look back at Nathaniel until he'd finished putting on his clothes and given him permission to.

"How does it feel to transform?" Andrew asked after a short pause, and it took a moment for Nathaniel to realize he was asking him for one of his truths. He let out a held breath, his new lungs contracting and expanding like a newborn butterfly.

"It's painful," Nathaniel said, tapping his legs. "It's because I haven't done it enough to get used to it. It mostly feels like burning in my tail and my chest."

Andrew gazed at him, and Nathaniel tried to remember how to breathe with the intensity of the other man's eyes. "How many times have you turned before then?"

"Is that your second question?" Nathaniel asked, before replying, "This is my third."

"That was not a question. You still owe me another truth."

"That was clearly a question."

Andrew raised his eyebrow. "I made this game up, I make the rules."

"That's cheating," Nathaniel said halfheartedly. He didn't feel like arguing, not when it was just him and Andrew basking in the afterglow of a dying sun and the emergence of shallow stars. Andrew hummed, tilting his head to the side like he wanted to swallow the sunlight raw.

"I will think of something else."

"Can I ask you a question?" Nathaniel asked, glancing at the lone knife strapped to Andrew's thigh. He'd noticed that sometimes Andrew carried as many as six knives at a time, and other times no knives at all.

"Yes."

"Where did you learn how to use knives?" 

Andrew absently touched his fingers to the hilt of his blade. "Renee taught me."

"I see." Nathaniel thought of the friendly girl that was always by Andrew's side. She hadn't seemed like a threat, but Nathaniel had always been unnerved by her and her syrupy smile and warmth. It was surprisingly fitting to know that she was the one to teach Andrew how to be so deadly.

“Indeed.” Andrew seemed less tense than he was any other time Nathaniel had ever seen him, from the gentle slope of his chiseled shoulders and the softened blankness on his face. “Well, Nathaniel. What will it be first, walking or fighting?”

“I asked you to teach me how to fight,” Nathaniel said dubiously. 

“Ah, but if you want to learn how to fight, you must first learn how to walk.” Andrew stood up, standing over Nathaniel. He held out his hand. “Yes or no?”

Nathaniel recognized the question, reaching up to grasp Andrew’s hand. “Yes.”

He let Andrew pull him up, let him rest his hands on Nathaniel’s shoulders until he gained balance. Andrew looked him over once, and Nathaniel tried not to fidget under his gaze. “Just don’t put your hands on me.”

Nathaniel nodded his assent, and Andrew asked, “Can you move your legs?”

He grimaced as he tried to lift his right leg. His muscles were there but he didn’t know how to use them properly. “No - I don’t know how to.”

“Put your foot in front of the other,” Andrew instructed, taking a few steps back from Nathaniel. “Moving is more of an instinct. It cannot be taught. It’s there with you - but don’t try to find it.”

Instincts came easy to Nathaniel. His instincts were to harm whenever he felt hurt, to swim in the water whenever he saw it, and to cower away from men old enough to be his father. He didn’t need to search for them, because as much as he hated them, they were always there anyways.

He felt the spread of sand, pebbles, and dead leaves under his bare feet. He took a deep breath, felt the cooling air fill his newborn lungs, and took a step forward.

He would’ve fallen if Andrew wasn’t there to catch him, bracing Nathaniel against his unmoving body. Nathaniel blinked, nearly reaching up to hold Andrew’s shoulders when he paused, remembering Andrew’s warning. 

“Keep going,” Andrew said, pushing back at Nathaniel until he found his balance again. 

This time, Nathaniel managed to take two stumbling steps before losing balance again. Andrew grabbed his elbows to hold him steady. 

“I thought of my question,” he said, his breath brushing against Nathaniel’s collarbone as he pushed him upright.

“Yeah?” Nathaniel asked, his voice unsteady. 

“Who was your mother?” 

The only time Nathaniel had ever cried was when his mother died. The tears had mingled with the ocean, salty and stinging. His mother was a tragedy, a talented woman who fell victim to a merman’s notorious magic. He swallowed against the fresh wave of grief that Andrew’s question unleashed within him. He’d promised Andrew honesty, and he owed him his truth. 

“Mary Hatford,” he replied once he knew his voice wouldn’t possibly break. “She was a huntress for the Hatford Syndicate. You must know of it.”

“I do,” Andrew confirmed. He’d retreated again once Nathaniel had found his balance, but retelling Mary’s story left Nathaniel feeling light-headed and lost.

“She was one of the best huntresses in the Caribbean,” Nathaniel said quietly. “So when my father found out about her, of course he wanted to enchant her. She was a threat to his kingdom at the time, and he didn’t want to take any risks.

“At the same time, my mother had heard of the Wesninskis. We’re one of the most valuable merfolk in the world.” Nathaniel huffed a hollow, self-deprecating laugh. “They met each other in just the right place at the right time. She was about to kill my father when he managed to distract her long enough to make her forget why she was even there in the first place. My mother wasn’t even strong enough to resist him.”

Nathaniel stopped talking, his stomach churning and throat burning. Andrew mercifully didn’t press on, his eyes stormy and complex as he regarded Nathaniel. 

He only said, “Try again,” and pointed at Nathaniel’s feet.

Walking and falling meant not thinking about his late mother, so he did just that. It took many tries before Nathaniel could even walk halfway to Andrew without wavering, and by the end of it, his knees were bruised and his legs ached.

The sky had darkened, shrouding them in silvery darkness. Nathaniel glanced up at the smattering of blinking constellations in the sky, sighing softly.

The only light guiding them was the moonlight, dousing Andrew in glorious silver and breathlessness. In that moment, he was both a god of the sun and the moon, standing there and waiting for Nathaniel to take another step. 

“I will not leave until you can walk to me,” Andrew decided as Nathaniel hunched over, resting his hands on his shivering knees.

“You’ll be here all night then,” he retorted.

“So be it. I will not waste more time doing this with you, so learn faster.”

Nathaniel forced himself to stand back up, breathing through gritted teeth. Andrew stared at him, a silent challenge in his hazel-turned-silver eyes. 

He started walking toward Andrew again, concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other. He thought his knees would give out every now and then, but he forced himself to keep walking, to keep moving forward.

And then, just like that, Nathaniel was walking, and he briefly thought he felt closest to being human than he’d ever felt before. 

Andrew didn’t need to catch him this time. He gazed steadily at Nathaniel, his face blank save for a vaguely approving look in his eyes.

“Now we can really start,” he said, before adding, “Another time.”

“I’ll visit you.”

He was expressionless, but something flashed in his eyes at Nathaniel’s words, over too quick for him to pinpoint. “Okay.”

Andrew waited until Nathaniel jumped back into the pool before turning to leave. Nathaniel left his clothes on a clean rock after he transformed back, diving into the depths.

All the while, he could never quite erase the weight of Andrew’s hands on his skin.

\-- 

When Andrew saw Nathaniel again, it was two days later, and he was already in his human form. He was on watch duty with Renee again as well as Allison, standing guard on the helm of their ship while the Foxes purged it of anything possibly useful.

He raised his eyebrows when he saw Nathaniel emerging from the trees, fully dressed in the shirt and pants that Andrew had given to him. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” he deadpanned once Nathaniel neared him. A tiny smirk twitched on his lips in response.

“Hello,” he greeted, before nodding at Renee as well. 

“Come upstairs and join us,” she called down with a friendly smile. Allison judges her with a questioning look, which Renee rolled her eyes at. Andrew ignored Allison’s voice talking about what bets she’d already placed on Nathaniel in favor of watching him climb over the sides of the ship.

Nathaniel ascended the ladder with some effort, but he still managed to land on the deck. He walked up the stairs, standing by Andrew’s side and peering out at the horizon.

“Hey there, Nathaniel,” Allison said, her eyes focused on Nathaniel’s lithe form and (admittedly handsome) face. Andrew nearly slapped himself for the very thought.

“Hello,” he replied, sliding her a cool look. Allison raised her eyebrows, opening her mouth to say something else, before Renee’s soft gasp interrupted her.

Her smile had suddenly faded, and she pressed her spyglass against her eye. 

"What happened? Did you see something?" Allison demanded, catching onto her mood shift. 

"Oh." Renee's voice was small but dark, and she slowly lowered the glass. "Get Wymack. Now."

Allison stared at her for a brief moment, before turning and running downstairs. Nathaniel asked, "What did you see?"

"A ship," Renee said, her face carefully blank. "I didn't see the flag quite clearly - "

"Give me that." Andrew took the spyglass from her and peered through it in the direction she was facing. He spotted the distant shape of a ship easily as his eyes roamed the horizon. It wasn't close to the Foxes, but it was definitely headed in their direction.

Then he focused on the flag rippling in the wind, and his fingers almost immediately clenched around Renee's spyglass.

He'd only seen the flag once before, when he'd had the misfortune of meeting Riko Moriyama and his crew at one of their trading posts, but he would never forget it. The red raven emblazoned across the pitch black fabric wasn't something easily forgotten.

"What's happening?" Kevin had joined them, gripping his sword in his right hand as Andrew lowered the glass.

"We have visitors," Andrew said tightly. Before Kevin could ask anything else, Wymack's footsteps thundered up the stairs. 

"Andrew?" Wymack demanded as soon as he saw the spyglass in Andrew's hands.

"The birds have headed south." He glanced at Kevin for his reaction. As soon as the real implication of Andrew's words registered, Kevin's face paled and his hands began to shake.

"No," he said, trembling. "No, no - "

Andrew clamped his hand down on Kevin's shoulder, shoving him back. "Breathe."

"They're coming for me," Kevin gasped, dropping his sword. "I can't - I have to go back, they - "

"You're not going anywhere." Wymack's voice was firm and unmoving as he rounded on Kevin. "That little scalawag will have to first get through me and Andrew before he even thinks about touching you."

"I can't say no!" Kevin yelled hoarsely. 

"Then I will." Andrew stepped in front of Kevin, blocking his view of the horizon and the fast-approaching Ravens. "Remember our deal, Kevin. I don't like liars."

His breath trembled, and his eyes were wide and haunted. Andrew could feel Nathaniel's gaze burning through him, but he focused on the task at hand: preventing Kevin from jumping off the ship. 

"Get some of your liquid courage," Andrew said lowly, forcing Kevin to look him in the eye. "And stay put. Let me handle it."

"He's right," Renee put in. Her face was pinched in concern, but also understanding. "Kevin, I'll take you to Abby."

Andrew dropped his hand, letting Renee pick up Kevin's sword and guide him downstairs. As Wymack followed them downstairs to round up the rest of the Foxes, Nathaniel turned to him.

"What was that?"

"You know who the Ravens are," Andrew said. 

He frowned but didn't disagree. "I've seen them before."

"Tetsuji Moriyama captains their second ship, the _HMS Evermore._ Riko Moriyama is his nephew and first mate," Andrew said. "Kevin was Riko's partner up until he started showing too much talent, and Riko broke his left hand and threw him into the ocean in a fit of jealousy."

"Oh." Nathaniel's eyes darkened, but he didn't try to offer sympathy or false pity. "Then why would he want Kevin back?"

"Good question. Someone has abandonment issues," Andrew replied, too breezily, and started downstairs. He didn't need to look behind him to know that Nathaniel was following him down.

The Foxes gathered at the pier, hands itching to hold weapons or throw punches as they watched the damned ship get closer and closer. Andrew looked around for Kevin, who he spotted a minute later with a bottle of rum already half-finished.

“Stand your ground,” Andrew said lowly once Kevin got close enough to him. Kevin gazed at him with eyes dusted with his ghosts’ cobwebs, but he nodded shakily and took another drink from the bottle.

The _HMS Evermore_ in all its black and red glory docked at the very edge of the island. They watched as a flock of fellow Ravens jumped onto the island, surely led by the one and only Riko Moriyama. Andrew felt his own lip curl in distaste, but he stayed in front of Kevin.

The Ravens approached the Foxes in that stupidly unnecessary v-formation, four Ravens fanning out on either side of the two figures approaching them. 

“Riko, long time no see,” Dan said coldly as they walked within earshot. 

“Wilds,” Riko greeted, holding out his hand like he expected Dan to stoop over and kiss it. Dan graciously accepted his hand, shaking it once firmly before letting him go. “I think you know why we’re here. We’re here to take back what’s ours.”

“No,” Dan replied fiercely. “Nothing here belongs to you. You’re looking in the wrong place.”

“Kevin,” Riko drawled, making a show of looking around dramatically. “We lost him a while ago, and now we want him back. See, we spotted your ship passing through our Shadow Aisles, but you never stayed long enough to pay us a _proper_ visit.”

Kevin let out a choked whimper when he saw his former crewmates. Andrew followed his gaze to the man standing behind Riko: Jean Moreau.

"Birds of a feather get abused together," Andrew mused loudly, eyeing the bruise blackening Jean's cheekbone, right where his '3' tattoo was. The Frenchman swung a dark, hollowed glare in his direction. 

Riko's eyes turned icy, and his smile curled with contempt. "Minyard."

"There are two. Be more specific." Andrew casually rested his hand on the handle of his knife even as Renee stepped up to his side. 

Wymack shot him a look that said _shut up before you make this even worse._ He stood in front of Kevin, who was not-so-subtly cradling his left hand to his chest as he took a stumbling step back, retreating farther behind Andrew. 

"Tetsuji," Wymack said instead, casting the Ravens' captain a cool look. "Pleasure to see you again. Don't know what you're doing here, but unfortunately, we aren't giving up any Foxes today, or ever."

"Kevin Day has always belonged to us," Tetsuji replied, taking a step forward. Andrew unsheathed his knife, twirling it in his hands and raising his eyebrows. He felt Renee's elbow brush against his, a soft warning but also a promise that she'd have his back. 

Riko said flatly, "Tell your guard dog to step back. Kevin, we've missed you dearly."

"Maybe if you didn't break his hand and throw him into the ocean, we'd believe you," Allison spat. 

"Belay, you wench," a female Raven said from behind Jean. Allison's eyes blazed furiously, and she looked like she was half a step away from beheading whoever spoke, but Seth grabbed her elbow and hauled her back. 

"Looks like the niceties are over now," Wymack said dryly, though his tone was just as angry. "Listen here, Tetsuji. And you too, Riko. We were the ones who saved Kevin from drowning, and we were the ones who patched him back up. I don't know what's going on in your clique, and I don't want any part of it. All I know is that we're not giving him up, and if you really want to force it, then that's your own problem."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Riko said, before turning back to Kevin. "Come on, Kevin. Don't you miss sailing with me? With us? All that power? You don't get that around this ragtag bunch of amateurs."

"What did you say - " Matt started, but he was interrupted by a different voice. One that didn't belong to the Foxes.

"Shut up! Just - shut up." 

Nathaniel's voice rose above everyone else's, and Andrew tightened his grip on his knife. He'd nearly forgotten he'd still been standing there. 

"You know, I get it," Nathaniel said sweetly, pushing his way through the Foxes until he was face-to-face with Riko. "Being raised as a legend must be really, _really_ difficult for you. Always a commodity, never a human being, not a single person in your family thinking you're worth a damn off your ship - yeah, sounds rough. The Foxes and I talk about your intricate and endless daddy issues all the time."

"Nathaniel," Kevin whispered frantically. Andrew didn't say anything - he was too busy staring at Nathaniel and his fire mouth, and dare he say - _enjoying_ this.

"I know it's not entirely your fault that you are mentally unbalanced and infected with these delusions of grandeur, and I know you're physically incapable of holding a decent conversation with anyone like every other normal human being can," Nathaniel continued, "but I don't think any of us should have to put up with this much of your shit. Pity only gets you so many concessions, and you used yours up about six insults ago. So please, please, just shut the fuck up and leave them alone."

Jaws dropped, in both the Foxes and Ravens. Nathaniel didn't seem to care; he tilted his chin up at Riko, whose expression could have sent Davy Jones himself running. Kevin seemed to stop breathing, and Allison looked like she was already counting all the money she was about to get paid. 

"Oh," Riko finally said, his voice laced and dripping with venom. "And you are...Nathaniel."

"Look, he has a brain," Nathaniel spat. 

"I haven't heard of you, yet you look so familiar." Riko's smile was slow and dreadful. Andrew barely stopped himself from stepping forward to Nathaniel's side, knives drawn. "Jean, who do you think he looks like?"

Jean was silent, his face pale. He stared at Nathaniel like he was a ghost. 

Riko snapped his fingers suddenly. "Ah. I've thought of it. He looks just like his father. Doesn't he?"

Tetsuji's lips were twisted into a scowl as he contemplated Nathaniel, but he nodded curtly in response to his nephew. Riko stepped closer, grabbing Nathaniel's chin and jerking his head up. Andrew didn't miss the way his fingers whitened against Nathaniel's jaw.

"Nathaniel Wesninski," Riko mused, shaking Nathaniel's head slightly. The latter's fists clenched at his sides, but he didn't move to fight Riko off. "That's so peculiar. You take after your father in every way, but...I just don't get it. How could you possibly have legs, then? Care to share your secrets?"

"That's enough," Wymack finally said, stirring out of his stupor. 

"I'm curious," Riko said like the little brat he was.

"Are you jealous?" Nathaniel taunted, but Andrew saw the way his fingers were trembling as he hid them behind his back.

Riko pursed his lips, before letting Nathaniel go and shoving him back. Renee reached out and steadied him. 

"Maybe we'll try another day," Riko said, still staring at Nathaniel. 

"I hope we never have to see your sorry face again," he growled.

"You will rue the day your mother ever spawned you." Riko's lips curled, but he stepped back and held out his hand to the rest of his assembled crew. "We're leaving."

They began to retreat, taking up their formation at Riko and Tetsuji's sides. Andrew watched as they walked away, not one of them casting a look behind their shoulders at the Foxes.

As soon as they were out of sight, Wymack turned to Nathaniel. 

"What in _God's_ name did you think you were doing?" he positively roared. Quickly, Nathaniel stepped back from Coach, his eyes flickering briefly down to Wymack's hands before back up to his face. 

"That was the best thing I have ever witnessed," Matt breathed, staring at Nathaniel, but Andrew knew Wymack wasn't focused on that. The anger was muted on his face, sawed-off, as Wymack stared at Nathaniel. He knew that Wymack had noticed the way Nathaniel flinched away from him the moment he raised his voice.

"You lot," Wymack said slowly, not taking his eyes off Nathaniel, "go back to exploring this place. Meet back here by sundown."

The Foxes mumbled their assent and followed Wymack's orders, except for Renee, who remained by Andrew's side. Abby wrapped an arm around Kevin and led him away as Wymack took a cautious step closer to Nathaniel.

"What you did there was awful brave," he said slowly, carefully. "But Riko isn't someone you want to antagonize. And you did just that."

"I don't care," Nathaniel said, his voice hesitantly steady. "I've had worse."

Wymack looked like he wanted to say something else, but he gave up, and his expression shuttered down into something tired. "What am I going to do about you?" he asked, mostly to himself as he ran a hand down his face. 

"I'll deal with him, Coach," Andrew offered quietly. Wymack glanced between the two of them, before nodding curtly and grimacing.

"Both of you stay in one piece. I need to go find Kevin. Renee, come with me."

As soon as Andrew was alone with Nathaniel, he turned toward him. 

"Any particular reason you decided to pull off that spectacle?" he asked. Nathaniel met his eyes, and Andrew felt a strange tug in his chest when he saw the bruises already forming on Nathaniel's jaw.

"He was getting annoying, wasn't he?" Nathaniel replied defensively. "I'm not afraid of him. He's a pathetic, whiny bastard who just wants attention."

"Funny, because Kevin doesn't see that."

"I don't care what Kevin thinks or sees. I care that _Riko_ thinks he owns this place." Nathaniel's eyes burned with a fire that didn't suit his cold azure irises. 

"You might not be afraid of him, but Riko is creative," Andrew said quietly. "You are in no shape to defend yourself, at least not yet."

Nathaniel's eyes narrowed. "What are you insinuating?"

"You still need my protection." Andrew crossed his arms stubbornly. "My offer still stands."

"You - " Nathaniel faltered, fingers twitching. He exhaled harshly, shaking his head. "I have nothing else to give you."

"Give me your back."

"I don't - "

"You're in dangerous waters, Nathaniel," Andrew said, echoing the first words Nathaniel had ever spoken to him. "Hunt or be hunted, right? You said that yourself."

"Riko wouldn't dare to try and hunt me."

"No," Andrew agreed. "But he will hurt you."

Nathaniel bared his teeth in a cold challenge. "Then let him." 

"I won't."

Their words clashed like two desperate warriors, swords clanging and pistols blazing. Nathaniel remained rooted in place, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he stared Andrew down. Andrew remained still, glaring back at Nathaniel as he wondered if softer touch could erase a bruise, if lost causes could ever possibly be found. 

(Andrew never considered himself a lost cause or a tragedy - he was merely a damaged sword: bent and broken, but just useful enough to keep).

"If you are wise," Andrew said, when Nathaniel remained silent, "you will stop coming here and remain in the sea where you belong. We will leave soon and figure things out the way we always have. But if you want to stay, then you will come back tomorrow at sundown, at the same place we always meet. And you will give me your back."

He stepped away from Nathaniel, sheathing his knife and jerking his head toward the sea. "Hurry along, Nathaniel. Your family must be waiting."

He didn't check to see when Nathaniel had left, and he only knew that when he looked back, Nathaniel was gone again - like a ghost vaporizing into the dawn.


	12. men who play god

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nathaniel makes a decision. riko makes his revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: character death. a lotta casual conversation about how to kill people.
> 
> (also several of wesninski's people are ocs, like lorraine and campbell. gotta have an empire ya know).
> 
> ((nobody better go through my search history from when i was writing the second half of this chapter))

_Give me your back._

Nathaniel wanted to use his claws. Maybe tear someone's throat out. (Riko seemed like a good choice; Nathaniel only needed to hear him talk for a minute before he knew that Riko was a scumbag). 

He didn't know why he felt so angry or shaken. He could still feel Riko's fingers against his face, squeezing, as his breath hit Nathaniel's nose with hissed threats. The bruises would heal now that Nathaniel was back in the water, but he still couldn't stop the desire to crawl out of his own skin. He'd painted yet another target onto his back, this time to save a crew of ragtag sailors that he barely even knew.

And now Andrew wanted Nathaniel to give him his back.

Perhaps it would feel nice to have someone holding him up for once. But Mary had tried it, and it had only gotten her killed in the end. Nathaniel survived by himself, because he'd been taught ever since he was born that trust was a weapon he could only use once - it was irreparable and irreplaceable. It was a shield he kept around himself, and as long as he didn't let it go to the wrong people, he wouldn't be hurt.

Andrew did trick Nathaniel and trap him, but he'd let him go. He'd given Nathaniel his reasons, and he'd given him a deal in return. He'd even wanted to save Nathaniel. 

Mary's voice echoed in his ears, overshadowing Andrew's for a moment.

_"Don't trust anyone."_

Common sense told Nathaniel to just leave while he still could. To let Andrew and his lot escape, to remain his father's hunter, to never see or look for the Foxes again. It was safer. It would let him survive.

All Nathaniel ever did was survive, survive, survive.

It was an endless game, one with the same ending and rules, one that Nathaniel had grown tired of years ago. He didn't know when - perhaps it was when his mother died - or why it was hitting him now. All he knew was that he didn't want to just survive anymore; he wanted more. He _needed_ more. 

It was stupid. Oh, it was the most stupid thing Nathaniel had ever thought of doing. 

But he wanted it so badly.

Andrew's promise was a pearl, slippery and rare, one that Nathaniel clasped between his palms and prayed he would never drop. If he did drop it, carelessly or accidentally, it would disappear into the depths forever. Not even the smartest merman or hunter would be able to find it again.

He sighed shakily, watching the flurry of bubbles escape toward the surface. He hovered just above the depths, staring up at the watery light and relics of his life without promise.

Lost causes, lost treasures, lost sailors. Everything got lost eventually, but Nathaniel wondered if Andrew could maybe find him.

The ocean was his home. It was also his prison.

He found Jackson, Campbell, and Lorraine swimming together, heads tucked close in a hushed conversation. Lorraine spotted him first, her empty gray eyes flashing when she spotted Nathaniel. 

"Hello, Nathaniel," she said quietly. The light caught on her murky brown scales, turning them copper.

Nathaniel echoed her greeting, before asking as casually as he could, "Father will be coming home in a few days, yes?"

Lorraine exchanged a look with Campbell, who shrugged. It was Jackson who replied, "No. Something came up."

He didn't know what he was hoping for, but the relief that came over him was sweet all the same. Nathaniel ran his fingers down the scar stretching from his hip down to his tail. "When will he be back?"

"At the earliest, by the next full moon," Campbell said. 

The next full moon, Nathaniel knew, was in two weeks. 

"What came up?" he asked, skin tingling with the new revelation.

Jackson said, "Serious enough to keep him busy."

"That's unfortunate," Nathaniel said, doing his best to sound disappointed. It seemed to work, because Lorraine gave him a twitchy smile and Jackson went back to ignoring him. He took it as his cue to leave, darting back in the direction of his underwater caves.

The sun was rising for a new day. Nathaniel bit his lip. He thought he could see the outline of a ship in the blushing horizon, and maybe even a pair of hazel eyes.

\-- 

"We can't leave," Kevin said once he'd inhaled an entire bottle of rum. The Foxes had all gathered in Wymack’s cabin, but there was a disturbing absence of a certain loudmouth who started this all. "We can't. Riko will find us."

"What does that mean? He already knows we're here," Aaron said, looking up from where he was toying with his broken compass again. 

"He will send people." Kevin glanced at Andrew, his fists clenching and unclenching. "He's always used to getting what he wants. If he doesn't, someone will pay."

“So you’re going to just keep us here?” Allison asked. “We still haven’t explored this whole place yet. There’s more supplies to find.”

“It’s not safe,” Kevin insisted. 

“I’m sure we can spare one day,” Matt agreed, glancing rapidly between Kevin and Allison.

“We’re wasting too much time,” Seth groaned. 

“Do you want to fucking die?” Kevin demanded, whirling on him. Andrew took a step closer to Kevin, tapping his hand lightly on the head of his chair.

“He wouldn’t kill someone, would he?” Dan asked, her face twisted in a frown. 

“You don’t know him.” Kevin didn't say anything else, twisting open another bottle of rum and downing three large swigs. Andrew suppressed a sigh, leaning against the chair with his elbows.

He hated to admit it, but Kevin was right. If Riko was cruel enough to toss his lifelong partner, his _brother_ , into the sea with a broken hand and piece of driftwood, then there was no telling what he'd be willing to do to the Foxes who took said brother in. To a certain boy who spun words into knives as sharp as Andrew's.

"I say we listen to Day," Andrew said as the Foxes grew quiet. Dan stared at him with a bewildered look in her eyes, and Renee had that tiny smile on her face again. "We stay put for at least a couple days, until the birdbrains have left."

"Then we get the hell out of here," Aaron said.

Nicky glanced around, biting his lip when he spotted Kevin still latched onto the rum. He gave Andrew a significant look, then Wymack. "What about Nathaniel?"

Ah, the question looming over everyone's heads.

"He helped us." Renee was the first to talk. "He _is_ helping us. We wouldn't have found this place if it weren't for him."

"We're aware," Seth said dryly. Allison looked like she wanted to slap him, but Renee took his comment with grace.

"I think it's only right if we help him. He's definitely in danger of being hurt by Riko, especially after what he said today."

"Did you see the look on Riko's face?" Matt added quietly. "It was beautiful." Renee smiled warmly.

"I don't disagree with you," Wymack said, "but he is a bit unreachable, if you will, with his family lines and all."

"I think that even if we just stay, we'll be able to help." Renee glanced at Andrew carefully. She knew of his budding deal with Nathaniel, and like the saint she was, she was trying to help. Andrew didn't know if he felt more annoyed or grateful.

Wymack looked between the two of them. Andrew met his searching gaze, and something shifted in the older man's face.

It wasn't something Andrew didn't expect, to see Wymack turn to the rest of the Foxes and declare, "Alright, maggots. I do still have misgivings about this, but then again, I had misgivings about taking any of you in and starting a crew with you lot. Look at where we are now. Renee's right. We wouldn't be here if it weren't for Nathaniel, and it's only right that we stay to help him as much as we can. Especially since he was stupid enough to stand up to Riko and mouth him off. Yes, Matt, I enjoyed it as much as you did, but I'm not standing around and letting him face Riko's wrath because he didn't know better."

Dan had a wild grin on her face as she listened to Wymack, and she nudged Matt in the side, who had a similar expression. "Any chance to stand up to Riko, I'm in."

"Guys - " Kevin miserably tried to butt in, but Nicky hushed him. 

"Andrew's gonna keep you safe. Who's Nathaniel gonna have?" he said, squeezing Kevin's shoulder despite the navigator's tense expression. 

Andrew warned, "Nicky. Hands off."

"Okay, okay."

"Just be careful," Abby said softly. "I don't want _any_ of you being hurt." She had a fiery smile on her face, one of fierce pride and determination. Andrew found it strange how quickly a lost soul like Nathaniel had managed to wriggle beneath (most of) the Foxes' armors, how quickly he'd managed to make a place in their crew. It was probably just the merman charm, Andrew told himself. 

It definitely wasn't anything else.

Predictably, Seth objected to Wymack's decision.

"Coach, are we seriously going to just sit here and give this - him - moral support, or whatever? Can't we just leave?"

"We should give him a chance when he's given it to us," was all Wymack said. "But please do stick to what Andrew said. Stay on the ship. No exploring."

"We're not kids, Coach," Allison muttered as she rubbed Seth's arm. 

"Oh, really." Wymack rummaged through his desk and pulled out a flask, flipping it open and taking a swig. "Get out of my sight." 

Andrew followed Kevin out of the cabin, trailing him as he made a beeline for their sleeping quarters. He watched as Kevin slumped in his hammock, covering his eyes with an arm while letting out a shuddering breath. He'd surprisingly managed to mostly keep himself together during the meeting, with the help of Abby's comfort and Andrew's cold promises.

He tried to understand Kevin's reactions, and maybe he was beginning to. Riko was Kevin's abuser for years, though it was mostly mentally - he was cursed to torment by a would-be brother. Andrew had been abused since his childhood, if he could even call it that - he was cursed to remember the faces of each of his abusers and exactly what they had done to him. Andrew's nightmares were merely flashbacks, and if they left Andrew trembling and sweating in the middle of the night as he tried to convince himself that he was safe, he was on the sea, that wasn't a problem he tried to dump on anyone else. 

Kevin's problems were blood in water, spreading and spreading until everyone who touched him was stained in red. Andrew's problems were a knife embedded in his own chest. It hurt only him, and removing the knife would kill him. Andrew wouldn't be Andrew without the knives by his hips, the blade in his heart, or the blood on his hands.

Andrew only understood being the pillar that others relied on, the broken sword that was a back-up to the real one. He only understood dealing with Kevin while Kevin never dealt with him. He was Kevin's crutch as much as his alcohol was - but whatever kept the star navigator whole, right?

He tapped the wall as Nicky and Aaron came in. Nicky crawled into his hammock with a heavy sigh, while Aaron sat down and toyed with his compass. Andrew was beginning to see that it was his brother's nervous tic, to touch and play with the broken thing.

"I'm leaving," he declared after a short while, standing up. Kevin nearly fell out of his hammock as a result.

"What?" he demanded, his voice too loud and sharp. "You were the one that said we had to stay put!"

"I did." Andrew started strapping his knives in, taking more than usual. "But I do have an errand to run."

"What are you doing?" Aaron asked, sitting up as well. 

Andrew leveled a glare on his brother, fist clenching around the handle of his fourth knife. "I need to check on something," he said slowly. 

"What could possibly be so important that _you're_ going out now to check?" Aaron retorted, standing up. "It's going to be dark soon, and that would be the perfect time for Riko to strike. You really are going crazy."

"Ah. I'm afraid that I'm a late bloomer then," Andrew replied. " _I'm_ going to be fine, because I can take care of myself."

"Is it that merman?" Aaron blurted out. Andrew froze as he was turning around, and suddenly the knife in his hand seemed way more appealing stuck in his brother's throat. He glanced over his shoulder at Aaron, whose eyes had narrowed and fists were clenched.

"What makes you think that?" Andrew asked. Nicky sat up groggily, woken up from his nap.

"Guys? What's going on?"

"Is it him?" Aaron took a step forward, even as Andrew brandished his dagger at him. "You're not cutting another deal with him, are you?"

"And if I am, what are you going to do about it?" He was probably going to be late now. That was assuming if Nathaniel even showed up. 

"You said you weren't protecting him."

"People change, Aaron," Andrew said. His brother didn't reply, just glared at him like he was trying to pick Andrew apart and make sense of the broken pieces he found. Andrew could almost hear the thoughts running through Aaron's head, and he knew he had to leave before any of those thoughts surfaced as words.

Nicky asked again, concerned, "Andrew? Where are you going?"

"I'll be back. Babysit Kevin if you need something to do." He left before anyone else could stop him. 

Andrew wasn't scared of a prick like Riko. He knew his knives better than he knew the seas; if Riko tried anything, he'd be the one with the blade shoved down his throat.

\-- 

Nathaniel stood at the edge of the pool, unsure of what he was doing there. The sky was just beginning to darken, plumes of red spreading across the clouds like blood. Light turned golden, then pink, turning Nathaniel's skin into bronze whenever he looked down at his hands.

He stared into the flickering water. His reflection rippled, the light turning his auburn hair into fire and his father's icy blue eyes into rubies.

 _Junior._

He was a copy of his father, the only differences between them being freckles, age, and monstrosity. Lola, Jackson, DiMaccio, Lorraine - they all reminded him of it. He was every inch his father's son.

Nathaniel glanced down at the knife he held in his hands. It was the same blade Andrew had gifted to him before, and it still felt clumsy and heavy in his fingers. He ran a fingertip across the sharpened blade, watching as it left a white line against his skin.

The sand crunched. Nathaniel whirled around, only to find Andrew standing across the clearing.

"Oh," he said, gazing steadily at Nathaniel. "He made it. That's interesting."

Nathaniel managed a wavering smile. "Hello."

Andrew drew closer. Nathaniel noticed the amount of knives he'd strapped to his belt, hanging off his hips like stalactites. He reached over, resting his fingers over Nathaniel's neck and pressing them into his skin. His touch was fire, a blazing sunset, a net dropped over Nathaniel's head. His breath caught in his throat.

"Remember this moment," Andrew said lowly. Nathaniel's eyes snapped to him. "This is the moment you stop being the prey."

Nathaniel stared at him through heavy lashes, his lips working to form words when nothing came out. He didn't know what to say. Andrew dropped his hand and stepped back, sheathing his knife and eyeing the one Nathaniel carried.

“Show me your grip.”

Startled, Nathaniel glanced down at the blade. He'd nearly forgotten he was carrying it, but he forced himself to move. Wrapping his fingers around the leather hilt, he lifted it so Andrew could see.

"You're holding it too tightly," Andrew said. He took Nathaniel's hand and adjusted his fingers, shaking his wrist slightly. "You must be flexible and agile, but also calculated. You start out with proper grip."

Nathaniel breathed deeply, and readjusted his grip again. Andrew gazed at his hand carefully, reaching out and shaking his wrist again.

"Better. I assume you don't care much about inflicting torture, and you want quick ends to things," he said. Nathaniel nearly dropped the knife at the nonchalant way Andrew spoke of murder, but when Andrew gazed at him expectantly, he could only nod.

"Just enough to defend myself," he rasped. "I already know about - where it hurts. My father. I-I know how to incapacitate with my claws, but - " 

"Okay." Andrew paused, then he wrapped his fingers around Nathaniel’s wrist, lifting the knife to his own neck. Nathaniel inhaled sharply, and when he tried to pry his fingers off the knife, Andrew squeezed his wrist in warning.

“The messiest way to kill someone is to slit their throat,” Andrew said. His Adam’s apple bobbed against the sharp blade, and a sudden thrill rushed through Nathaniel. He felt his head was spinning like a hurricane. “It will be messy, the most bloody, but it’s effective when done right. As in, there will be no coming back from it.”

“H-How do I know if it’s done right?” Nathaniel asked hoarsely. His fingers were starting to shake, and Andrew tightened his grip to steady him.

“Press deeply. Do not be tentative,” he answered. “Make it sharp and quick, but deep enough that you completely sever the jugular. If the person is struggling it will be harder, especially since blood may make the knife slick. That's why grip is important. Tight, but not too much.” 

Then he lowered the knife, dragging Nathaniel’s hand to a spot on his ribs. The tip of the knife rested precariously close to Andrew’s heart. “To stab the heart, aim for in between the fourth and fifth rib.”

"Aren't you scared?" Nathaniel blurted out as Andrew started lowering his hand with the knife toward his thigh. He glanced at Nathaniel through pale lashes.

"What?"

"I might hurt you." He didn't think he was talking about just the knife. 

Andrew blinked at him a few times. Then he squeezed Nathaniel's wrist again and pressed the flat of the blade against his leg. 

"I will not let you either way," he said. His voice was scraped raw, a flesh wound, and Nathaniel, for a moment, could see the blood emotion on his lips.

Then it was gone again.

Nathaniel nodded silently, willing his shaking to stop. Andrew tapped his finger against the blade. "Another major point to aim for if you want the person to quickly bleed out. You may miss it, but given that the wound is left untreated, they'll die soon enough anyways."

Andrew directed Nathaniel's hand upward again, this time pressing the hilt of the blade to the back of his neck, directly at the base of his head. 

"Stab right here with enough force, and they will be dead before they even hit the ground." 

"Okay," Nathaniel managed to say.

Andrew nodded and finally dropped his hand. Nathaniel lowered the blade, avoiding his reflection in the metal, but focusing on Andrew's face instead. 

"You have quick reactions and reflexes, so you will learn faster," he said. "The knife will feel wrong, at least for now. You have to get used to it. In the end you don't really get to practice, not with a blade." He paused, glancing at the fast-sinking sun, before glancing back at Nathaniel. "I will teach you how to sword fight."

"I suppose you have to head back now," Nathaniel said softly. 

"I do."

"Thank you." The words didn't feel sufficient, but Andrew accepted them without comment. Nathaniel had been taught how to kill with his bare hands and teeth, and he had been taught how to survive. He had never been taught how to express gratitude in any way, shape, or form.

Andrew looked like he was about to turn away, but he paused. His voice rang through the now-silent clearing.

"We're staying."

This time Nathaniel did drop his knife. " _What?_ " 

"We are staying." Andrew tilted his head to the side. "To help you."

"I told you," Nathaniel said shakily, "that there's nothing you could do to help me."

"And yet here you are." Andrew stepped so close to Nathaniel that he could feel his breath brushing against his skin. His hazel eyes blazed with something fierce and small, a fire underneath stone ribs. "I cannot protect you if I am across the ocean."

"Not my father," Nathaniel whispered weakly. "I can't ask you that. I won't."

Andrew's mouth twitched unhappily, but he let the argument go. Pushing Nathaniel away, he said, "Riko won't touch you."

A tentative smile wobbled on Nathaniel's lips, like a baby flower trying to take root. "Okay." 

"Tomorrow at sundown again," Andrew said.

"Okay." Nathaniel tucked the blade against his chest and watched Andrew leave.

\-- 

Andrew emerged from the growth and headed toward the pier. He could still feel the ghost of his - Nathaniel's - blade against his skin, threatening to pierce through it but not quite. Although Andrew never really had problems pointing knives toward himself anyways.

He boarded the _Palmetto Foxhole,_ but he could immediately tell the difference in the air. It was sharp and stale. Something pungent. 

Andrew quickened his pace, the ill prickling of _something's wrong_ scraping against his back. The deck was empty save for Renee, who started for Andrew as soon as she saw him. Her face was terribly blank, her eyes shadowed over.

"What happened?" Andrew asked. 

Renee bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. "It's Seth," she said quietly. "We found him in the river up north. He was drowned."

The world stuttered to a halt, just for a second. Andrew was a war of emotions: relief that it wasn't anyone from his family, then sick amusement at how anyone else would have reacted to him thinking that (monster, monster, monster), then emptiness for a man, now dead, that he'd never really cared about.

"Why was he there in the first place?" he opted for asking.

"I don't know." Renee crossed her arms like she was trying to warm herself. "Maybe he really didn't like the idea of staying put. He slipped by Allison and left by himself. He was near the part of town that he'd been assigned to check, anyways. We only discovered he was missing when Allison woke up and he wasn't there."

"He didn't just drown himself," Andrew said. "Someone had to have done it."

"Yes." Renee stared at him a moment longer. She looked weary and hollow, a mirage of her usual self. "No one's saying it, but we all think it was Riko's doing."

Andrew stayed there a moment longer, tightening his grip on one of his knives. "Where is he?"

"With Abby." Renee pursed her lips. "Allison's not taking it well. Neither is Kevin."

Of course he wouldn't. 

Riko was making his move, and it had cost them a Fox. Technically it was there turn now, assuming the bastard didn't play dirty, assuming that the Foxes didn't break first.

Then again, the Ravens didn't value fair fights. They preyed off of weaklings and underdogs, fished from opportune moments and exploited every weakness they could.

Fighting dirty was the only way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year! here's to 2018 and even better experiences, even more healing and improvements, and even more goodness. 
> 
> a wise neil josten once said, "it's not the world that's cruel. it's the people in it."
> 
> likewise, it's the good people that make the changes. let's strive to be those good people. <3
> 
> take care of and love yourselves. and have fun!! see y'all next update. (it's gonna be p r e t t y wild).


	13. unsettled, unbalanced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the foxes lose a crew member, but they gain eight new faces.
> 
> (looong chapter but it's setting up some good stuff)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (pls don't take my sword fighting techniques seriously i am literally just too lazy to do actual research and my web history is too sketchy and murdery at this point, so i'm going off memories of action scenes of pirates of the caribbean ok thanks this has been a psa, love u)

Seth's funeral was unremarkable in every way. Renee and Wymack had followed Allison to bury his body, and the rest of the Foxes eventually trailed along. 

Allison chose to bury Seth by the bank, digging into the ground silently and with a vengeance. Andrew observed her stiff and mechanical movements, the storm tucked under Allison's chest that was brewing and churning. Renee met his gaze, her eyes forlorn but the rest of her expression carefully blank. 

When Seth was finally buried and the only evidence of him ever existing was the freshly upturned sand, Wymack stepped forward with his bottle of rum.

"We don't have time to cry about this, unfortunately," Wymack said. "I'm won't be here to offer you kind words and pats on the back. I'm won't be a shoulder to cry on. Take that up with Abby. My job is to be your coach no matter what and keep you moving whether you want to or not. That probably makes me the villain here, but we all have to live with it."

He stared at the patch of damp sand where Seth was buried. They'd opted out of giving him a funeral at sea, with the Wesninskis still an ever-present danger lurking behind them. Allison refused to let Seth be torn apart again. 

The Foxes remained silent. Wymack cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. "Look. Shit happened, and it's going to keep happening. You don't need me to tell you life isn't fair. You're here because you know it isn't. Life doesn't care what we want out of it; it's up to us to fight for what we want with everything we've got. Seth wanted us to survive. He wanted us to get out of here. We owe it to him to do just that."

He raised his bottle in a toast. "To Seth."

Dan was the first to lift her flask, followed by Matt and then Renee, who voiced her prayers. Andrew remained still, watching Kevin stare at Seth's unmarked grave, as if glaring at a dead body would raise it back to life. 

Abby wrapped her arm around Allison and gently led her away after whispering something to Wymack. Renee and Dan followed them. The Foxes slowly dispersed, one by one, until it was only Andrew and Kevin left with a stone-faced Wymack. Andrew reached out and poked Kevin in the back, who flinched.

"Glaring will not bring him back," he said quietly. Kevin shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself. 

"This isn't enough," he murmured. "For him, it'll never be enough. Not until I go back."

"You won't," Wymack interrupted before Andrew could slap some sense into Kevin. 

"He won't stop until I go back. It can only get worse from here," Kevin said solemnly.

Wymack glared at them for a moment, his usual anger flaring over the cold numbness that Seth's death left on him. "Quit spouting nonsense," he snapped. 

"We don't even have enough people to man the ship," Kevin protested. He unhooked the flask from his belt and took a swig, sighing shakily. "With Seth, we had the bare minimum. We're stuck here."

"It's not the first time we've been saddled with something impossible," Wymack argued. "Don't you dare give up now."

"Yes," Andrew agreed, stepping into Kevin's line of vision. "The fact that I continue to put up with your whining is impossible enough."

Kevin's grip tightened around the flask. His lips thinned out, whitening from how hard he pressed them together, but he eventually nodded curtly and walked around Andrew to get back onto the ship. Wymack nodded approvingly as he watched Kevin's retreating form.

"You surprise me every day, Minyard," he said once it was just the two of them left. Andrew raised his eyebrows. 

"I don't like surprises. That concerns me."

"I'd say the ice is broken. There's no use waiting things out now," Wymack said. "We have to move on or else we'll really get ourselves into a stalemate."

Andrew glanced at the sky. It was around midday now, and he still had his meeting with Nathaniel to get to. His lips twitched as he imagined what Nathaniel's reaction to the news about Seth would be. Maybe another plea for Andrew stop trying to protect him and just leave.

Which brought up another issue: how Andrew was exactly supposed to protect Nathaniel from Riko. The merman didn't expect Andrew to try and protect him from his father - in fact, he'd practically begged Andrew not to do anything. 

He assumed the Raven wouldn't dare to sail into the Wesninskis' territory, where Nathaniel lived. But apparently the Ravens had followed the Foxes ever since they passed through Shadow Aisles, and they hadn't run into any problems with the Wesninskis. 

Something wasn't right - it never was with the Moriyamas. 

Teaching Nathaniel how to fight was one way Andrew could keep his promise. He couldn't stand as the wall separating Riko from Nathaniel, not when Nathaniel wasn't a constant at his side. The best Andrew could possibly do was advise Nathaniel to stay in the water, to stay within his father's realm, and teach him to fight whenever he had the chance.

It wasn't the first time Andrew had made a promise he wasn't sure if he could keep. 

(He didn't know why he was so desperate to protect Nathaniel, when the merman could just as easily kill Andrew if he wanted to). 

Maybe it was his self-destruction speaking. Maybe he was getting too desperate. Nathaniel was an impulse promise, a feels-right oath.

Wymack cleared his throat, and Andrew slid his gaze toward his coach. There was a vaguely curious look on his face as he raised his eyebrows.

"Thinking about something?"

"I have to meet Nathaniel," Andrew said blankly. 

"Oh." Wymack's eyebrows rose even higher. "I thought you didn't like or trust him."

"Nosiness," Andrew said in a chastising tone. "Doesn't look good on you, Coach."

"Get out of here," he muttered, flapping his hand at Andrew. He rested a hand on his knives, about to leave, when he paused and glanced back over his shoulder. Wymack remained at Seth's grave, occasionally taking a drink from his rum while staring at the sand. 

Wymack was there to hold the Foxes together when they were splitting apart. But Seth had been the only Fox from his original crew that stayed with him, and he was gone - it was bound to hit Wymack hard.

Riko knew how to pick and choose.

Andrew climbed up the rope ladder and jumped onto the main deck. It was eerily silent except for Matt and Dan, who were together on look-out. As Andrew passed by them, Matt gave him a short nod, squeezing Dan's hand. 

He found Kevin huddled on his hammock, nursing a bottle of whiskey and passing it to Aaron every once in a while. Nicky looked up, his eyes unusually shadowed. 

"Is Coach back yet?" he asked, quietly, like he was afraid his voice would break if he spoke any louder.

"No," Andrew said. Everyone grieved differently. Wymack's was slow and silent.

He brushed past his family, heading down the corridors until he reached Abby's office. There was a faint conversation behind the door, and Andrew could recognize Renee's muffled voice. He walked past Abby's office, finding himself in the cellar where they kept all their supplies, liquor, and trade items.

The new supplies they'd gotten from the port were stacked in the corner. They'd learned to keep them in the cellar instead of on deck after the storm threw half their things overboard. 

He sat down on a barrel of wine and wondered if he could steal Wymack's pipe to smoke. The darkness encased him except for a flickering lantern, casting golden shadows across the floor as the ship rocked with the static waves.

Andrew closed his eyes, thinking of a pair of icy blue eyes, a life cut short, and a nameless funeral.

\-- 

Nathaniel knew something was wrong when he saw Andrew's face. There was a terrible sort of blankness to it, like snow that settled upon a landscape ravaged by fire. Something was underneath his mask, pooling in his hazel irises, as he knelt down beside Nathaniel.

"Is something wrong?" Nathaniel asked as Andrew removed one sword from his side. He didn't reply until he'd unsheathed the sword, allowing Nathaniel to look his fill. The rosy light glinted off the sharp metal blade, highlighting the bronze, engraved hilt.

"One of our crew members was drowned," Andrew said as Nathaniel picked up the sword, curling his fingers around the handle. He froze at the bland way Andrew spoke. "It was Riko's doing."

Nathaniel clenched his fist. He didn't know why he felt so sick all of a sudden. Andrew didn't seem too bothered by it; he took a cloth from his pocket and began to clean one of the swords.

"Who?" Nathaniel finally asked, when the silence became too much.

"Seth." Andrew shrugged. "You didn't know him."

"Was it my fault?"

Andrew glared at him sharply, his lips twisting. "Riko did it to get to Kevin. I didn't expect it to affect you as well."

"I could have just kept my mouth shut." If Nathaniel's father was here, he would've beaten him for his reaction. Death was their close partner, death was normal for them. They were the monsters who dragged soldiers to the depths, after all.

"Keeping quiet never does any good." Andrew paused, like he was thinking of something, before standing up and beckoning for Nathaniel to follow. "Though I do advise you to stay in the water from now on, except for these lessons. It's too dangerous for you otherwise. You are safer the deeper you are, because Riko won't try and get to you underwater."

"Safe at home," Nathaniel mused. "That certainly is new."

Andrew didn't say anything else, only looking away as Nathaniel made his transformation. He crawled out of the water, the droplets rolling off his skin as he found the clothes he'd hidden nearby and got dressed. He picked up the sword Andrew brought him, tapping his fingers against the hilt. It felt strange, like a too-light extension of his arm.

He'd been practicing with Andrew's knife, and he'd gotten used to its weight in his hand. The sword was something different altogether.

"Ready?" 

"Yes." Nathaniel approached Andrew, who unsheathed his sword smoothly and turned to face him. 

"Keep your grip strong and tight," Andrew instructed, demonstrating on his own weapon. "Otherwise, I can disarm you easily. Like this." He swung at Nathaniel, who jumped and tried to deflect with his own sword. Andrew's blade caught against Nathaniel's hilt, and in a graceful twist and maneuver of his arm, Andrew popped the sword out of Nathaniel's hand and flung it to the side. It skittered to the edge of the pool mockingly.

"Oh," Nathaniel breathed, glancing at the sword tip now pointed at the hollow of his throat.

Andrew nodded like he'd been expecting Nathaniel's reaction. He waited for Nathaniel to fetch his sword again before making him raise it. Andrew ran his own blade down Nathaniel's, metal scratching against metal and sending chills down Nathaniel's spine.

"You can disarm someone if you put your sword to the base of theirs," he said, pressing his blade to the start of Nathaniel's hilt. "Make a quick downward push, and jab your hilt against theirs." Then he swiftly and gracefully shoved his sword down, hooking it cleanly out of Nathaniel's fingers again despite how he tried to keep his grip.

"If that happens, what would I do?" Nathaniel asked as he picked up his sword again. 

"You would be at a severe disadvantage," Andrew said. "You would probably want to disable their sword-wielding arm as quickly as you can. A kick to the lower body and a twist to the arm would do the trick."

Nathaniel was just readjusting his grip when Andrew swung at him again. His reflexes kicked in before anything, the instincts which saved him from getting an oar to the head the very first time they met. Nathaniel brought his sword up and it clashed against Andrew's, the vibrations rattling down his arm.

"Eyes on me," Andrew said when Nathaniel's gaze wandered to their blades. Nathaniel glanced back at him, and a chill ran its finger down his spine at the intensity burning in Andrew's hazel irises. "Stay on your toes because it will be easier to react and move faster."

He took another swing, aiming it for Nathaniel's thigh, which he just barely blocked. "Stay opposite of me. If I step forward, you step back. If I step to the left, you step to the right," Andrew said. "Footwork is key if you want to survive."

"Okay," Nathaniel breathed. 

"Okay." Andrew stepped back, sword brandished. "Try again."

They practiced until the sun started to flicker. It brushed the tip of the trees, casting everything in an amber haze. 

Nathaniel's arms started to ache from his exertions. Keeping up with Andrew was like trying to chase a hurricane: a futile mission he tried so hard on anyways.

He supposed he got too distracted at some point, because Andrew easily slashed his sword downward and flung Nathaniel's to the side. He stepped into Nathaniel's space until his sword was pressed against Nathaniel's chest.

He didn't dare to breathe.

Everything about this was wrong and dangerous. The sword tip resting directly over Nathaniel's rushing heart, the way Andrew didn't even seem to break a sweat, the sun hanging low over the waters as night threatened to close in. This went against Nathaniel's very nature. 

It was always _fool_ and _lie,_ not fight back. Nathaniel was never able to make that choice before, but Andrew gave it to him. 

And now the stakes were so much higher, with Nathan gone and Riko Moriyama in the picture. Nathaniel didn't know Riko well, but he knew a problem when he saw one. 

"I could have killed you three different ways by now," Andrew's voice drawled, dragging Nathaniel from his whirling thoughts. He blinked, his lungs burning from not breathing, and stepped back. 

"I was just thinking about - about this," Nathaniel murmured. Words stuck in his throat like thick globs of honey, threatening to choke him; but he didn't know what he wanted to say. 

Andrew sheathed his sword roughly. "There is no 'this,'" he echoed after a long pause.

"What?"

He glanced at the sky, squinting against the sun for a moment. It highlighted his hazel eyes in shimmering gold. 

"Nothing," he finally said after a minute of silence. He glanced at Nathaniel again, a knife-sharp edge to his expression. "Nothing."

Nathaniel didn't know what else to say, so he just let Andrew gather his things in silence. He watched as Andrew slung his sword over his shoulder, tugging on a coat and brushing his hair aside. 

"Will I see you tomorrow?" he asked. 

"Yes."

Their parting words were always this: brief, cut off, and wrong. Nathaniel didn't know when this started going awry, when the dislike in his chest morphed into something softer. Something in his chest stung, but Andrew hadn't hurt him. Not with his sword.

He watched Andrew leave in the direction of his ship, sword still clutched in his hand. He glanced down at the hilt. Simple wave patterns stretched across the handle, and if he ran his finger across them he could feel the etches and power thrum through his body.

 _Unsettled._ That was the word Nathaniel was looking for, that was what Andrew made him feel. 

Unsettled. 

Because humans were dangerous, especially those that hunted - that was what he was always taught - but he wasn't scared of Andrew. Not even when he had a blade right over his heart.

 _That,_ was as unsettling as a rumble deep in the sea. It shook Nathaniel down to his core, left him trembling and lost in quiet chaos.

\-- 

Unbalanced.

That was what Nathaniel did to Andrew - he knocked him off his balance without even meaning to, without even touching him. There was a weight in his icy gaze, like his irises were as deep as the ocean and his pupils were the oblivion Andrew sailed upon. He learned quickly and fought back whenever he could, but never purposely tried to hurt Andrew. 

Throughout his rather miserable first years as a sailor, Andrew had found that people, when given the opportunity, always took without asking. Always hurt without healing. He'd grown accustomed to it, to the devastation of humans. It became his new balance, that anything good always came back to the middle: an opportunity to be damaged even further. 

Then there was Nathaniel.

He'd knocked Andrew off balance ever since the first time they met, forced a crack into Andrew's walls, a split in his fortress. 

Off kilter.

Wymack wasn't by Seth's grave anymore, and if it weren't for Andrew's memory he'd have forgotten where they buried the navigator already. He passed by the sand without a second glance, climbing aboard the ship and heading downstairs. 

Kevin was in the same place Andrew left him, asleep. Someone, probably Aaron, was smart enough to confiscate his liquor before he drank himself to death. Nicky was tinkering with his pistol that he rarely used, wiping it off and lifting it up to the light. 

"Hey, you're back!" he beamed when he noticed Andrew.

"Where's Aaron?" Andrew asked in lieu of a greeting.

"He's off with Matt and Dan," Nicky said, unbothered by Andrew's abrasiveness. "They're on lookout. Renee's with Abby, by the way."

"I didn't ask," Andrew said flatly. 

"I just said that, since you guys are close." At his pointed glare, Nicky dropped his gun and lifted his hands. "Come on, she's the only other person you associate with besides us."

"Shut your mouth." Andrew brushed past his cousin, but headed for Abby's office anyways. He pushed the door open without knocking to find Renee sitting, leaning against the back of the chair, while Abby organized her medical supplies.

"Hello, Andrew," Renee said, smiling warmly at him. Abby glanced over her shoulder. 

"Hi. Where've you been?" she asked, tucking away two rolls of bandages. Andrew didn't answer, moving to her desk and tugging lightly at a drawer.

"Where's my pipe?" he asked. Abby had taken his smoking pipe from him, and usually Andrew didn't care since he could get a replacement, but being stuck here meant he couldn't barter for one just yet. He itched for it, for something to balance him again.

Abby narrowed her eyes. "You were fine without it," she said.

"Well, now I want it back. Where is it?" 

Renee said softly, "We don't have much tobacco left anyways, Abby."

After a minute of silence, Abby relented and grabbed a box from under the bed. She handed Andrew his pipe with a harsh warning look, one that Andrew easily brushed off.

"Goodbye," he said, slipping back out while blowing any dust off his pipe. Light footsteps followed him - Renee - as he eventually lit the pipe and stuck it in his mouth, heading back upstairs.

"Is something the matter?" Renee pressed as soon as they arrived at the main deck. 

"Everything is fine," Andrew said around the mouth of his pipe. The smoke was familiar and grounding, emitting a spark of golden light in the darkness that illuminated Renee's face when he turned to face her.

"Alright," Renee said after a short moment. She rested her hands in the pockets of her vest, sighing. "Allison wants to spend time alone at Seth's grave, but Wymack won't let her. Says it's too risky."

"He's right."

"It's just - odd to see her like this, so silent." Renee's face twisted for a second as a cold wind blew over them, threatening to put out Andrew's smoke. He had a feeling that 'odd' was an understatement, but Renee knew Andrew didn't particularly care for Allison's emotions.

"She knows it was Riko. She will get angry soon enough," Andrew mused, taking another drag from his pipe. He could slowly feel his pieces edging away from the cliff side as the smoke curled in his mouth. 

"That's fair." Glancing past Andrew, Renee fixed her gaze on the distance, the silhouette of the empty port. They remained quiet, Andrew staring into the black water as Renee gazed into the horizon. 

It was fine, it was balanced for a while.

Andrew was nearly done with his pipe when Matt slid down from the crow's nest, shouting, "There's people here! I saw torches!" 

Renee ran to Matt's side while Andrew blew out his pipe and tucked it away. She grabbed her spyglass and peered through it. Footsteps thundered up the stairs, drawn by Matt's shout. Wymack burst onto the deck, followed by Nicky, who was dragging a still-tipsy Kevin. 

"I thought Nathaniel said this place was abandoned," Wymack said as the rest of the Foxes, excluding Allison, arrived. 

"They don't look like Ravens," Renee said, lowering her spyglasses. "Perhaps they're stranded."

"No ship?" 

Dan shook her head. "They could've gotten caught in the same storm we did."

"If we saw them, they definitely saw us," Matt said. "Our ship is pretty obvious from a distance. At any rate, I'm sure we outnumber them."

"We're not fighting them," Wymack said, shooting Andrew a pointed look. 

"Are you sure they aren't Ravens?" Nicky asked Renee.

"Riko wouldn't have made them so blatantly obvious," she replied, nodding. "I think we should go meet them. They may have supplies we need."

"New recruits?" Aaron's tone was incredulous as he glanced between Wymack and Renee. "This soon after - "

"No one said anything about recruiting them just yet," Wymack interrupted. "But they might be some help for us. We needed more people even before - Seth." He paused, raking his gaze around his (tiny) assembled crew. Lamps lit up the deck in golden circles, glinting over the water like oil. "Abby and Nicky will stay behind with Kevin and Allison. The rest of you come with me."

"Andrew's coming?" Dan asked. "Is Kevin okay without him?"

"Kevin's too out of it," Wymack replied, already on his way to the ladder. "Come on, we're wasting time."

Andrew patted his side where his sword was, curling his fingers around the hilt as he followed Wymack off.

\-- 

Renee was right that the newcomers weren't Ravens. They were too noisy and friendly. 

The closer the Foxes got to the group, the clearer they could hear their conversation. There was a male voice speaking, without any distinguishable accent. 

" - getting dark. We should probably stop."

A female voice answered him. "We've been at this for almost two weeks now, Jeremy. Now we see a ship and stop? We have to keep going."

"I don't like this place. It's too empty," another girl said.

Andrew ducked behind a tree trunk, quietly unsheathing his sword. They'd all hidden in the shrubbery, waiting for the band of strangers to get close enough to them for an ambush. Andrew doubted they really needed to put up a fight, but with Riko's recent antics they couldn't risk anything. 

A light swung between the trees, showing several elongated shadows. Andrew could make out eight from where he stood.

They only waited a few more minutes before making their move. Wymack snapped his fingers twice, their signal. Someone from the group stopped, hissing, "Did you hear that?"

Andrew was swift whenever he needed to be, and thanks to Renee's teachings, quieter than a shadow. He moved from around the tree, grabbing the nearest person and pressing his blade against their throat. A loud yelp came from him, which he quickly silenced as the rest of the Foxes encircled the group.

"Christ Almighty," someone whispered.

"We're not here to hurt you," Wymack said, stepping forward. He flicked his hand at Andrew. "Put him down, Minyard."

Huffing, Andrew released the man, lowering his sword but keeping it in plain view of him as he shuffled aside, eyes wide. In the darkness, Andrew could make out his features: sun-tanned skin and hair streaked with strands of blond. 

"Oh," the man said, rubbing his neck. "Thank _God._ I swear we're not bandits or anything - our ship got ruined by the storm and we lost the rest of our crew in it. I - we've been walking for so long - "

"What's your name?" Dan asked. 

"Jeremy," he replied instantly. "Jeremy Knox." 

"Where did you all come from?" Renee's smile was friendly, and Andrew didn't miss the way Jeremy relaxed at the sight of her.

"We're just merchants," Jeremy said, "and we were supposed to just pass through here, but we got caught up in this storm. I don't know where we landed, but we just kept walking from there."

"Do you have any supplies?" Wymack asked.

"Yes, we stole some from the northern part of this settlement." A girl spoke up this time, her silvery blond hair tucked back by a simple pin. "There's more, but we didn't have enough people for all of it."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Katelyn," she said with a fleeting smile. "That's Laila and Sara over there, Ari, William, and Simon. And here's Marissa." She pointed to each crewmate as she introduced them.

"I suppose you don't want to spend the rest of your days here," Wymack said. "We were tossed here too, by the same storm, it sounds like. If you're willing to, we can give you a place with our crew - "

"Oh, yes!" Jeremy blurted out. A faint flicker of amusement passed through Wymack's expression. "You have no idea how relieved we all were when we saw your ship. We'd be so happy if you let us join."

Dan was smiling as if Jeremy's excitement was contagious. Matt squeezed her wrist. "Sorry about Andrew, Jeremy," she said, while Andrew gave her a bland look. Jeremy glanced at him, but his grin didn't waver.

"It's fine," he said. "It was probably a surprise to you, to see us."

"I wouldn't want to head any farther up north," Laila suddenly said. "There's nothing useful. We did pass by a pub a few days ago, though."

"Ah, that place." Katelyn nodded. "I thought I saw a few faces I recognized there, but I wasn't sure. We left too soon."

"Well," Wymack said, tapping his foot against the sand. "We'll come back here later to get the last of those supplies. Ship's this way."

Andrew sheathed his sword, falling in line with Aaron in the back of the group. He kept an eye on each of the newcomers, but none of them seemed like a threat. If anything, they got even more excited as Wymack led them back to the _Palmetto Foxhole._

His neck prickled, and he turned to see Katelyn staring at them.

"You're twins," she said, not quite a question, motioning between Aaron and Andrew.

"I'm Aaron," Aaron said as Andrew ignored her. 

"Aaron." Katelyn's smile grew, and she fell in pace with them. Andrew huffed and hurried ahead of them. 

Seth's death had tipped the Foxes' scale, put a little hole in a giant ship, but there was no telling that the newcomers would make things any better.

Rotten luck was on their side, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> about nathaniel not being the first promise andrew made which he didn't know if he could keep...there will be revelations very soon.
> 
> alsooo check out my tumblr @hi-raethia for concept art for this (i’m working on some rn) and Upcoming Fics!!!


	14. you promised me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chance encounters occur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: attempted rape, sexual assault, mentions of andrew's past
> 
> i listened to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2yMyor-Sd1Q) a lot while writing this chapter, so max effects
> 
> (this chapter and the next are going to only be andrew's pov. then the next two following those are going to be only nathaniel's pov, just fyi).
> 
> also, finals are coming up next week for me so this may be the last update for like, 2 weeks maybe?? unless i somehow manage my time wisely?? which is never the case. i'll try to update during the weekend but no promises. gotta try and pull my grades up from the Pits of Hell. thank u guys for all the support <3

The newcomers called themselves Trojans, according to Jeremy. He seemed noble enough, friendly but obviously the leader of their group, and most likely serious whenever he needed to be. Andrew brushed his attempts at making conversation off by pointedly glaring into the distance, and eventually Jeremy moved on to talk with Renee. 

Andrew glanced up at the almost pitch black sky. They navigated only by the faint moonlight and golden torches, swinging their shadows back and forth like waves. He stared out at the blackened seas, glittering with white flecks underneath the moon. The waters were so dark that they looked like tar, thick enough to drag Andrew down if he stepped into it.

A fleeting thought crossed his mind. He wondered what Nathaniel was doing, if he was heeding to Andrew's advice and staying close to his "family." It brought a bitter taste to Andrew's mouth at the thought of Nathaniel spending time with people who obviously hurt him, in some way or the other, and his grip around his sword tightened at the mental image. 

Nathaniel had a way of wriggling under Andrew's armor, and it should have made him angry. And it did. 

But there was that dizzying feeling of being unbalanced again, and that strange squeezing in his chest, like his heart was getting smaller and then bigger at the same time.

Andrew didn't bother trying to put a name on it; naming feelings meant acknowledging them in the first place.

They finally made it back to the _Palmetto Foxhole,_ greeted by Abby, who looked all too enthusiastic at the prospect of nurturing yet another gang of scraggly survivors. Jeremy positively beamed at the sight of her, shaking her hand and bestowing upon her compliments that didn't belong anywhere close to the Foxes. 

Andrew skipped the introductions and niceties, heading downstairs. He found Kevin sitting up in his hammock, wringing his hands. His head snapped up at Andrew's entrance.

"Nicky said you saw people," he said. The shadows of the room darkened his tattoo. It looked like a bruise in the light. 

"We did." Andrew took off his sword, tossing it to the side. Nicky came into the room, holding a piece of dried beef between his teeth and a half-empty bottle of rum in one hand. 

"How did it go?" he asked, his voice muffled around the food.

"Go see for yourself," Andrew said. Nicky quickly ate the rest of his beef and practically dashed up the stairs. Andrew only went back up when Kevin decided to get to his feet and follow Nicky.

Jeremy, who was talking with Abby, faltered when he saw Kevin come upstairs. His eyes widened, and he gaped. 

"Kevin Day?" he gasped. " _The_ Kevin Day?" 

"Who are you?" Kevin asked, though Andrew noticed the tension leave his shoulders. 

"Jeremy Knox," he replied, walking up to Kevin and holding out his hand. "I've heard so much about you, but you just disappeared off the records one day. Everyone was talking about that. I didn't know you were here!" 

Kevin looked down at Jeremy's hand like it was a foreign object, before hesitantly reaching out and clasping it. Behind Jeremy, Katelyn stifled a giggle into her hand, while Laila nudged Sara. "This went from good to great," she remarked quietly. Andrew glared at her.

"Jeremy thinks you're a living legend," Katelyn explained when she notices the eyes on them. "We learned a lot from your sailing techniques. A lot of us merchants look up to you." 

Kevin smiled, and it was a brittle and unfamiliar thing. "Will you be joining us?"

"It would be an honor." Jeremy beamed, and if Andrew was a different person, he'd say Jeremy's smile at that moment was brighter than the sun itself. 

"Kevin," Wymack said slowly. Kevin glanced at him, and Wymack leveled a glare at him, like he was assessing something. Satisfied with whatever he saw, Wymack nodded and continued. "It's getting late. Abby and Dan can show you guys around."

"This ship is marvelous," Ari commented as Dan led the Trojans downstairs for a short tour. Andrew nearly scoffed. No one in their right mind would bother complimenting the ship the Foxes sailed on.

They were often scorned for their choice of ship: old but sturdy enough to stand storms, battered and bruised - just like their ragtag team operating it.

Renee said something about checking up on Allison, before heading downstairs behind the Trojans. Kevin headed to Wymack, arms crossed over his chest in a way that hid his hands.

"What were they doing here?" he asked, his voice hushed.

"They were stranded in a storm, like us," Wymack said. "They found a northern part of this port and there could be more things there we could get. We're heading back out tomorrow to check it out."

"So they _are_ joining us?"

"I don't see why not." Wymack tilted his head to the side, a dimly amused expression in his eyes. "Looks like you have many admirers, Kevin."

He glared at their coach, though Andrew noted it was the first sign of life Kevin had exhibited since Seth's death. Wymack brushed past Kevin, patting him on the shoulder, and headed up to the helm to take night watch. Andrew gazed at Kevin, who absently rubbed his left hand while staring at the horizon.

"I can see your ego growing from down here," Andrew said flatly when a minute of silence passed.

"Shut up." Kevin turned toward him, tucking his left hand behind his back when he realized what he was doing. "Riko won't be happy about this."

"We need more crew members."

"Yes, but - " Kevin cut himself off with a frustrated groan, raking his fingers through his unkempt hair. "He's going to think I'm trying to move on from him or something."

"You did," Andrew countered. "Or, you should have by now."

"He's not going to stop. I told you already." In the darkness, Kevin's irises looked like flakes of obsidian. "He'll never stop, not unless he dies first."

Andrew stared at Kevin, searching for the lies in his words. He discerned nothing but truth, hand-fed to him by a choking hand and demon in the shape of a would-have-been brother. It was a truth Kevin believed, and a lie that Andrew knew was real.

"Then that's what he will do," he said slowly, before turning around and heading below deck.

\-- 

That night, Andrew dreamed of Tilda, reincarnated in some nightmarish form of herself, with sallow skin rotting right off her skeleton. He dreamed of her slowly crawling toward him, pistol in hand, the same one Andrew had used to shoot her. Her teeth were stretched in a grotesque smile. Andrew couldn't move from her; his feet felt like they were chained to the floor.

Then he blinked, and the dream shifted. He was standing off to the side, watching Tilda crawl farther and farther down a seemingly endless hallway, and there was Aaron in Andrew's original place. His blank skin was mottled with bruises and welts, his expression completely gone. Dead.

Then things shifted again. Andrew was in Tilda's place, the woman completely gone. He held the pistol in his hand, the barrel of it pressed directly against Aaron's forehead. 

And he pulled the trigger.

"This is your fault," someone hissed in his ear.

He woke up and immediately sat up, staring down at his hands and expecting them to be covered in blood. In Aaron's blood.

They were clean and untouched.

He moved out of his hammock and unsteadily walked over to where Aaron was sleeping. He shifted slightly, mumbling something as his eyelids twitched, but otherwise remained still.

Andrew only stayed long enough to grab his pipe and the leftover remnants of tobacco, before heading upstairs. He took in a fortifying breath as soon as he got it lit, leaning over the side and staring down at the water. He stayed there until the sun began to rise, counting his breaths and waiting for his heartbeat to finally calm down.

Dan was the first back on the deck, followed by Abby and Renee, who smiled warmly as soon as she spotted Andrew.

"Good morning," she said, unfazed when Andrew didn't reply. "Coach should be calling a meeting soon. The Trojans are getting used to things, but they'll be great help for explorations. Allison's still coping."

"I didn't ask," Andrew replied, blowing out a puff of smoke. Renee's smile remained.

The rest of the Foxes, old and new, began to trickle on deck. Jeremy was filled with energy, talking enthusiastically to a barely awake Kevin. Katelyn watched with a fond expression on her face, before Simon tugged her arm and brought her over to where Wymack and Abby were waiting.

"How was your night?" Abby asked as everyone eventually gathered around them. "Do you need anything else? We have more food if you need it."

"That's fine," Katelyn said. "Thank you. Dan showed us where to put our things, and they're yours as much as they are ours."

"Then I say we reap whatever supplies are left in this ghost town," Wymack said, "and find a safer place to get to." He gave Andrew a significant look. He hadn't forgotten about staying to help Nathaniel, but they couldn't afford to remain in the same place any longer.

"Sounds like a plan," Nicky said.

"Jeremy, I'm assuming you know how where a lot of the supplies are, so it'll be faster if you just take a group down."

He nodded, and Wymack assigned him Katelyn, Simon, Dan, and Matt. Then he turned to Andrew. "You take Renee and the rest of your lot with you. I will take the rest of you out to scope out the rest of the southern edge, but report back whenever you can. Abby will stay with Allison. Marissa, will you be okay remaining here too?"

When she nodded, Wymack clapped his hands together. "Get going, maggots." Dan grinned, strapping her cutlass to her side and jumping down the ladder first. 

Andrew's feet landed on the rickety pier with a loud thud. He waited until everyone in his group arrived before all heading up north.

Jeremy led his group off in another direction after bidding Renee farewell, leaving them behind to cover the other half of the town.

The cabins, if they could even be called that, were built out of thin walls and covered in fine dust. Andrew tugged at the door of one and it swung wide open, revealing an empty house. A to-be that never became.

Aaron cleared his throat after nearly half an hour of silent poking around. "There's no one else here. It'll be faster if we divided and conquered."

"Perhaps," Renee said, glancing around the eerily empty walkways. Andrew trailed his finger along a door that wasn't so much a door, but just a flat piece of wood. He glanced at the dust that gathered on his fingertip, before blowing it off.

"I'll try and regroup with Jeremy," Kevin said quietly, "and maybe get some pointers."

"I'll go with you," Nicky offered, glancing at Andrew. 

"I'll head farther west, then," Aaron said. Renee pursed her lips, and Nicky looked to her when it was obvious Andrew wasn't talking. He still couldn't look at his brother without being reminded of his nightmare - but he didn't want him to be alone. _Especially_ not after his dream.

"Renee, go with Aaron," he finally said. Renee shot him a concerned look.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Andrew said. Renee only hesitated for another moment, before nodding. 

"I'll find you once we're done," she promised, before heading off with Aaron. Nicky gave Andrew a wavering smile, but followed Kevin in the direction Jeremy had gone. Andrew paused, resting a hand against the knife strapped to his hip, before moving on.

He kept skirting the edges of the empty town, looking for anything that could be hidden in different nooks and crannies. He found three containers of gunpowder, which he slipped into his bag. 

After another hour, he eventually arrived at what looked like another house, slightly more dignified-looking than the rest. The door groaned when it opened, sending a cloud of dust flying into the air. 

Andrew was greeted with cabinets and a table, with no sign of previous life. He left the bag on the table, heading to the cabinets and pulling each drawer open. Nothing but empty space filled the drawers.

He eventually got to the bottom drawer, tugging it out when it got stuck on the way. There was a rumpled piece of paper in it, which Andrew took out and unfolded. It was an ink drawing of a key, with handwriting scribbled in the upper corner that he couldn't discern. Perhaps it was the drawing of a rather superstitious sailor, hoping it was the key to Davy Jones's chest. Perhaps it was just a regular key. 

It was a relic, that was what it was. For a moment he thought back to what Nathaniel had said about the port being abandoned. 

Andrew should have been disturbed by how quickly Nathaniel and his kind had decimated the sailors who once came here. But he didn't. All that was left was a relic of a dream lost, and a ghost town for the Foxes to exploit.

He had just put the drawing away and closed the drawer when the door creaked open. He said without looking back, "Took you long enough, Renee."

There was a brief moment of silence. Andrew was about to turn around when someone chuckled, their voice deep, and he completely froze. It was hoarse and familiar, a noise that Andrew thought he'd never have to hear again. 

"Forgot me already, AJ?"

_AJ._

The name was jarring, a knife slipped between his ribs when Andrew wasn't aware. He felt himself turning into a ghost already, his heart catching in his bones as he stopped breathing altogether.

_AJ. AJ._

In a lightning-quick move, he unsheathed his knife and whirled around, blade raised to strike Drake directly in the chest. Before he could bring it down, Drake grabbed his wrist roughly, and when Andrew tried to kick at him, his arm was wrenched to the side. He dropped his knife in the scuffle, and a bottle came flying at his head, crashing into him. 

Shattered glass rained around him. Warm blood trickled down his face, and Andrew knew the fight was already lost. He knew it with heart-rending dread.

Drake took his stunned silence and shoved him down, pinning him to the ground. Dazed but desperate, Andrew tried to shove Drake off, but his head was spinning darkly and his arms were trembling. He didn't scream - it was a reflex conditioned after months spent with Drake in his cabin. _(Be quiet, don't make noise, I bet you're enjoying this, AJ)._

Andrew's entire body was shaking apart. There was a cruel thing gripping him, paralyzing him - it felt like fear, it was fear, it was dread, it was _resignation._ History was hellbent on repeating itself after all, and Andrew had slowed down enough for it to grab him by the throat and hurl him back into rock bottom. 

"I missed you a lot, AJ," Drake whispered, his breath hot and revolting against Andrew's ear. "It hasn't been the same without you, without the _St. Josephine._ But you can make it up to me."

"Fuck you," Andrew snarled, bringing his fist up for a swing. Drake caught it and twisted his arm painfully, pinning it above his head. 

"Someone mentioned your name in the pub I was in," he said lowly, his hands running down Andrew's hips and stroking his thighs. "It seemed like he was pretty upset about something, and I took him up on his offer. I just couldn't resist the chance to see you again." 

Andrew's head was spinning too much to make sense of Drake's words, but thought he was going to shake out of his own skin; he wanted to tear himself apart, and he would if that meant Drake would stop touching him. If that meant he could escape this.

Again. Again.

_Not again._

"Get off me," Andrew snarled again, his voice harsh and raw. He struggled and writhed as much as his pounding head would let him. 

_Please._

The word was poison dripping from his mouth, eroding his tongue. It carved him hollow and spat back into his face all the progress he'd ever tried to make: _the past comes running, always, and you will fall - always._

He felt it pressing against his lips. Maybe if he said it, Drake would stop. But that was for Steven, who liked to hear him beg. Drake was a different monster altogether.

"You promised me, AJ," Drake was whispering into his ear. His hand fumbled with his pants, pulling them down.

Andrew was going to be broken all over again.

Drake leaned down, lips brushing against Andrew's chest. "I know that you keep your word. You promised me, remember? You promised me that I could have you."

He was untouchable - that was what Andrew was supposed to be, the monster that no one could touch or would - but Drake's hands kept touching, touching, taking, killing. Fire crept down Andrew's hillsides and devastated his forests, burned them down. He was capsizing, water filled his lungs, it choked him. He was trapped in the shipwreck Drake was creating, going down, drowning, drowning, gasping and clawing, there was an anchor tied to his feet and someone was touching him, telling him about a promise - 

Someone was shouting. Drake's weight was ripped off Andrew, leaving him exposed and lost. He blinked rapidly, willing the world to slide back into focus, finding his bearings, but the everything kept blurring and his head hurt _so much._

A boy appeared in front of him. He looked just like Andrew.

He blinked again.

_Aaron._

And Andrew sat up so fast he nearly threw up. A coat was draped over his bare legs, and he grabbed a fistful of Aaron's shirt and yanked him close, all traces of his previous nightmare forgotten in lieu of a new one.

"Did he touch you?" Andrew demanded. He didn't sound like himself. He was too hoarse, too unsteady.

Aaron's eyes were wide and glassy, like he was watching his unsinkable ship crash and burn beneath the ocean surface. (Andrew thought this was what death felt like: utter hopelessness, resignation, defeat, and decimation. Knowledge that the thing you fought against most had still won when it mattered the most. Realization that all the broken pieces you'd tried so hard to salvage were - just that again: broken).

"Aaron. Did he _touch_ you?" Andrew couldn't raise his voice but it snagged Aaron's attention anyways.

He shook his head rapidly, hand hesitantly lifting to touch Andrew's shoulder. "N-No, he didn't. Andrew, y-you - "

"No."

"Your head. _Andrew,_ your - you - "

He held onto Andrew like he was afraid he'd disappear if he let go. Andrew couldn't suppress the flinch that ran through his body at Aaron's touch, and his brother's hands were gone in an instant, leaving behind a trembling figure and helplessness tumbling from pale lips.

The commotion died away. Andrew looked up to see Renee approaching them. Her hands were stained with blood, and she held a glistening red knife. Andrew's knife.

"Get Wymack," she said to Aaron. He left after a short hesitation, glancing back and forth between Renee and Andrew before bolting. Andrew settled for staring at the wall as Renee crouched down beside him.

"Andrew," she whispered. Her voice was swollen and broken. He listlessly looked at her. "Andrew, I need to know if I can touch you. You're hurt."

Oh, yes, it did hurt.

But he knew any more touch would leave him shaking in the arms of a memory, so he shook his head. "Make everything stop spinning," he said instead, and began to unravel the bandages around his wrists. They'd have to make do for now, because Andrew had to stop the bleeding, and he couldn't quite prioritize concealing his scars while there was glass literally and figuratively stuck in his skin.

Renee's sharp intake of breath pierced through him as Andrew finished unraveling his bandages, revealing the damaged skin underneath. He didn't meet Renee's gaze - everything he'd ever tried to hide and hold close to his chest had just been ripped out for the entire world to see. For Renee and Aaron to see.

A bitter curl of anger unfurled in his stomach, dropping him like a stone, even though he knew that Renee wasn't the type to pity him like that. He knew it was more shock than anything causing her to gasp, but within the fading grasp of his self-control, it still stabbed at him. Mechanically, he reached up and started to press them to his cuts.

"Andrew," Renee whispered again. He glanced at her with aching eyes. "Let me help."

He stilled long enough so that Renee could take the bandages from his trembling fingers and start patching him up. Her chest jumped with short breaths, and when Andrew looked at her again, her eyes were filled with tears.

"I killed him," she said when she noticed Andrew's gaze. "I killed him. I slit his throat."

"Messy," Andrew mumbled, swallowing harshly against the sudden nausea threatening to overturn him. He had escaped the shipwreck. Air was sweet to his exhausted lungs - but he was still stranded in the middle of the ocean with nowhere to go but down. He'd survived, but there was no telling he'd keep living.

But his worst ghost was dead. He was gone, he was never coming back, and he was never touching Andrew again. He drowned in a pool of his own blood with Andrew's knife.

His voice was softer than dying sea foam, barely even there. "Thank you."

Renee's hands froze for a moment, and she closed her eyes as if to stop the tears from escaping. Andrew looked away, down at his quivering hands.

"I shouldn't have left you," Renee said, resuming bandaging his head.

Andrew said nothing, swaying slightly. The words shriveled and wilted within him; his petals frayed, were torn off, and it left him disoriented and strange. He murmured, "Let's just be quiet for a while."

She complied, pressing her lips into a thin line as she finished bandaging his head. She sat next to him, not close enough to suffocate but she was still there. It almost reminded Andrew of when they'd sit together after dueling, sometimes out on the deck where he'd spout off the names of constellations and ghost legends he didn't believe in.

Then he came to again, and his body was still heavy and burnt wherever Drake had touched him.

Predictably, Wymack was furious and louder than a thunderstorm when he barged in, followed by Aaron, Nicky, and Kevin.

"What the hell - _what the hell happened?_ " he demanded, his eyes darting from Andrew and Renee to Drake's dead body. Kevin made a choking noise and ran back outside, probably to vomit. Nicky gasped, his eyes glossy with tears, and he started toward Andrew. He only stopped when Renee shook her head.

"I killed him, Coach," she said. "He was attacking Andrew. I don't know how he got here."

Wymack stared at Andrew, who looked away because there was something too vividly angry in his eyes. He heard Wymack take a deep breath, sawing off his rage for mechanical leadership. "Minyard, can you stand?"

"Yes," he said quietly.

"Renee, help him up," Wymack said, his voice carefully neutral. "Nicky and Kevin, you run back to get Abby."

"Oh, God," Nicky breathed, but he dragged Kevin away. Renee stood up first, cautiously blocking Wymack's view of Andrew as he struggled to his feet as well. He held onto the coat with one shaking hand while tugging his pants back up with the other, wincing when the movement made the world spin. Renee wisely didn't touch him, but stayed by his side if he needed support as they made their way to Wymack.

"Are you all right?" Wymack asked lowly, stepping in front of Andrew.

"I can walk," Andrew replied flatly. Renee murmured something to Coach that he didn't catch; he was too busy getting the hell out of the damned room as fast as he could without collapsing. Aaron stayed at his side. 

He didn't look at Drake's body as he passed, but he caught the flash of red pooling on the dusty ground.

This was just an inconvenience, Andrew told himself as he made his way out of that dreaded place. His head spun wildly, and Aaron latched onto his elbow when he stumbled. The contact made Andrew want to crawl out of his skin. 

This was nothing. This didn't hurt him at all.

He ignored the rotten feeling in his chest, in his stomach, everywhere. He'd learned that hurting meant weakness, and weakness meant hurting. He'd learned long ago that neither were helpful, so he'd forced himself to stop feeling at all.

But there was a ghost gripping him by the neck, breathing down his back. It was slowly clawing him apart, taking him piece by piece. Andrew could feel himself crumbling into the center of the maelstrom, and bit down on his lip to stop the sudden hysteric laughter threatening to spill out of him.

He tasted blood in his mouth.

"Andrew," Aaron said again, hesitant. Maybe he was starting to laugh. Andrew wasn't sure anymore. There was a ringing in his ears that wasn't there before, and he turned around to look for his twin.

Aaron's face was blurred around the edges, fading in and out. Andrew blinked once, hard, and opened his mouth to say something. To tell Aaron to leave him alone, to look away, to keep walking.

Then the world rudely tilted to the side, gave one last heave, and Andrew's knees buckled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok. this chapter was way painful for me to write, but it was among one of the first scenes i wrote for this fic. this is going to be a pivotal moment for the twins and their relationship. there's no 'happy 19th birthday, junior' to force them together, so this was kind of the substitute. (plenty of canon divergence here so if you have any questions let me know!!)


	15. i did not forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> andrew and aaron confront a few things in their past. andrew confronts a few things with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: detailed discussions of andrew and aaron's pasts, the word 'rape' is mentioned 
> 
> boy howdy did i miss writing this story

Andrew woke up to Abby's blurry, concerned face hovering over him. He couldn't quite suppress the flinch that ran through his body when she touched his shoulder, his defenses low and just barely beginning to build up again. Immediately, she lifted her hands, a pained look twisting her expression.

"You're safe, Andrew. I promise you're safe," she said softly, and only then did Andrew notice how quickly he was breathing. His mind felt scattered, no longer tethered to his skull, as he propped himself upright. His arm ached. Faint nausea threatened to overturn his stomach as he squinted against the dim light.

"How bad?" he asked roughly when he finally regained control over his lungs. Abby twisted the rag in her hands, and Andrew noticed dried spots of blood on it.

"I'm certain you will be okay. It's best if you rest for the next few days. I'm worried you might worsen your head if you do anything strenuous."

The door swung open, and Andrew glanced over to see his brother standing in the doorway, a flask clutched in one hand and a knife in the other. Andrew realized after an uncharacteristic delay that it was his knife. The one Renee used to slit Drake's throat.

Aaron cleared his throat. "I brought you water," he said, his voice too hoarse. Andrew looked away as Abby murmured something else to him, tucking away her rag.

"I'll leave you two. I have to check on Renee," she said, gently squeezing Aaron's shoulder on her way out. The door shut again, leaving Andrew and Aaron encased in an uncomfortable, prickling silence.

It was Aaron who finally moved first, sitting down in Abby's chair and setting the knife by Andrew's hand.

"Renee wanted me to give this to you."

Andrew replied, "I don't want it."

Yes, the knife was the instrument of Drake's death. But Andrew didn't want to look at it - not when he knew that he'd only see Drake's terrible grin and starving hands.

The shock of the entire situation had died away, fading into a dull numbness, one as familiar to Andrew as an old friend. He stared at Aaron and recognized that helpless plea in his eyes, the unasked and unanswered questions that threatened to suffocate him if hands didn't. Andrew was retreating into himself, he could feel it - this was a routine. This was something he did almost every night on the _St. Josephine_ , plaster on a terrible blankness that no one bothered digging under, dig blades under his skin to regain control where he lost it. 

He didn't know how easy it was to fall backwards, to trip and stay down. 

Or maybe he always knew, but he'd grown too complacent. Too hopeful.

How awfully hilarious. Andrew had escaped Drake for several years, only for the bastard to show up again for maybe five minutes, and any semblance of progress he'd made had come crashing down.

Aaron cleared his throat quietly. Andrew came to again, looking down to see that the knife was gone. In its place was the flask, already uncapped.

"No liquor," Aaron said when Andrew stared at it for too long. 

He was parched, anyways. Andrew lifted the flask, tossing back the water so quickly he felt vaguely sick, but handed Aaron the empty flask when he was done.

His brother shuffled around quietly as Andrew leaned against the wall, arms stretched out beside him. He knew there was no way Aaron hadn't seen the scars littering Andrew's forearms, so he saw no use in hiding them anymore. Besides, his shoulder and wrist still hurt, though the ache had dulled. Abby probably reset something.

"Ask your questions," Andrew said flatly when he grew tired of Aaron's burning gaze. His brother flinched and looked away, worrying his lip. "I know you heard what he said."

Merely saying anything exhausted him, and Andrew knew he should probably take Abby's advice and go to sleep, but then there were his nightmares to consider, and he didn't think he could stand Aaron's lingering looks for much longer. His head hurt and his body hurt - though it could have hurt much more, all things considered. 

Was making a narrow escape better than just enduring it all?

If Renee hadn't arrived in time, things would have been even worse. Andrew had been too helpless to defend himself regardless, even when things mattered the most.

Aaron's first question distracted him from his cruel thoughts.

"Why was Drake there?" His voice was cold, but the anger in it wasn't directed toward Andrew. His words were deliberate and slow. "We captured his ship in a raid, did we not?"

"We left him on an island," Andrew said, his head lolling to the side. He was careful not to speak of the bastard's name. It tasted like bile. "He got out. Someone told him we were here."

Aaron's lips twitched, and his grip on the flask tightened. "Who? Riko?"

"Do I know?" Andrew's voice was too monotone, too listless. If he were a different person, it would've disturbed him. "Most likely. Another antic to get at Kevin, I'm sure."

Speaking of which - 

Aaron answered his question for him. "He's with Nicky and Jeremy. He hasn't tried to run off or anything." When Andrew remained silent, Aaron continued, "We have to leave. If Riko - if he was behind what happened, then there's no telling what he'll do next."

"I don't understand why you are telling me this," Andrew said. "If you're here to talk to me about the Ravens, then go to Coach."

His brother opened his mouth almost indignantly, before Andrew swung his gaze toward Aaron, and his annoyed look shut down. He fidgeted, with an expression on his face that looked too uncomfortable, too guilty. 

A long silence passed before either of them said anything else. Andrew looked down at his hands, flexing his wrist carefully to test out the ache, when Aaron finally spoke again.

"What was he talking about? What promise?"

Ah. There it was. The falling mast that toppled the mighty ship, the lightning strike that set the sea on fire. 

Andrew ignored how sick he suddenly felt, focusing on a point on the wall just past Aaron's head as he searched for a good answer to the question. No matter what Andrew said, he'd be ripping open old wounds between the both of them. 

So he settled for the blunt and brutal truth.

"I promised him that he could have me if he left you alone."

A sharp intake of breath. A fist clenched on the edge of the bed, gripping on in the midst of a ringing silence. A gunshot fired into silence, echoing terribly and settling like a permanent ache within their twin bones.

Aaron was pale, his voice just barely shaking. "What does - what do you mean?"

Andrew was very careful to cut himself apart before he opened his mouth next, to slice away any emotion he felt and shove them aside, leaving behind a hollow shell for his brother.

"I promised to protect you."

Aaron was shaking his head. "That doesn't - I still don't understand. Why did he - you promised to - to protect me from her. I - that wasn't your promise. You weren't - "

"I wasn't going to stop protecting you after she died."

"She - _what?_ " 

Andrew shut his eyes, his head pounding with a pain he wasn't sure was from his injury. His brother had stood up, his eyes wide as he stared at Andrew like he was seeing him for the first time.

(Andrew wondered what Aaron was seeing. A brother, or a monster. A protector, or a boy who gave away too much, so much that he lost himself. Family, or a _monster_ ).

"You killed her." 

"I did," Andrew said, stone-cold and lifeless.

"You killed my mother. _Our_ mother."

"Do not call that wench our _mother_ ," he nearly spat. Aaron twitched, his eyes glazing over in familiar anger. "She was never our mother. She threw me away and she abused you. The only thing she will ever amount to is a coward and a corpse, like she deserves."

"Don't say that!"

"Say what, the truth?"

Silence.

" _Why?_ " The word was choked with some unnameable emotion, one Andrew had never heard from his brother before. He blinked, registering Aaron's harsh breaths and the way his fists kept clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"I told her what would happen if she raised her hand again."

But no, Aaron just didn't understand. He touched a spot on his chin, like he was remembering a phantom bruise there. Andrew looked away, but Aaron just stepped back into his view again. His brother kept dancing around the truth, getting just close enough to it that it could brush his skin, then darting back as it burned him, and getting angry that it did. 

"You killed her," he said again, like he couldn't believe it, "and you let him - you let him rape you. For me. _Why?_ "

Maybe he was bleeding. Was he bleeding? Andrew looked down at himself, at his chest, expecting to see blooming patches of crimson spreading across white fabric, but nothing was there. But he was still hurting, he was still bleeding - from old scars being slashed back open and memories struggling to resurface again. 

Andrew shoved away the hurt, shoved away the endless anger, down where the only person they could carve out was him. He turned dead eyes to Aaron and delivered the killing blow.

"Because I made you a promise," he said. "I did not forget it just because you chose not to believe me. I did what I said I would do, I did what I _needed_ to do, and _fuck you_ for expecting anything else."

Something fractured between them, a blemish in the glass wall separating them. Brothers turned ghosts, family turned hollow. It was so silent Andrew could hear the hitch in Aaron's breath.

He looked away as the door opened, and Abby stepped back in. She cast one look at the two of them, then asked, "Is everything alright?"

Aaron stared at Andrew for only a moment longer, before dumping the flask on the bed and storming out. Abby jumped out of the way, and the door slammed behind her.

Her weary sigh filled the room, and she crossed the room to sit by Andrew's side again.

"I want to leave," he said flatly as he felt her hand come up to touch his bandages.

"No. No sailing, no navigation. Not until I clear you." Abby opened her hand, not trying to grab Andrew before he gave her permission. "Will you let me check your arm again?"

Andrew gazed at her for a long minute, noting the growing cracks in her gentle, neutral mask, before placing his arm in her palm. She held his wrist with firm fingers, turning his hand over, careful not to touch the purple bruises marring his skin.

"I'm not going to ask," she said again after another minute of silence. "You don't need to tell anyone anything. But we shouldn't have let you go. Shouldn't have let you face those things - those people - alone."

"There is nothing you could have done." Andrew didn't want to hear her pity or guilt. Just the sound of it made his skin crawl, but then Abby looked at him with a desolate gaze, with such an open pain, that even he shut up.

"No. It isn't fair," she said quietly, dropping his hand after squeezing it gently. "Sometimes I think this job is going to kill me. Seeing what people have done, what people continue to do to my Foxes. I wish I could protect you, but I'm always too late. All I can do is patch you up afterward and hope for the best.

"I'm sorry, Andrew. We should have been there for you."

He froze as Abby stood up, cupping his cheek and pressing a light kiss on his forehead. It was one of the few touches for him that hadn't been tainted with blood or cruelness, but it was the surprise and unfamiliarity of it that made Andrew go still. 

No one else besides a select few had ever treated Andrew like he was something worth protecting before. No one treated him with such gentleness or _care_ before. Immediately, suspicion flickered through him, though the burden of his exhaustion quickly crushed it. 

Abby pulled away from him with a solemn smile, before taking something out from her pocket and setting it beside him. 

His pipe.

"Remember to rest tonight." She blew out one of the candles, dimming the room even further, before shutting the door softly. Andrew picked up the pipe, turning it in his hands, and breathed deeply.

\--

The other Foxes were careful to give Andrew a wide berth. He knew their silence couldn't afford to last, not when they were supposed to be leaving soon, not when there were new crewmates to consider, but at the same time, he was better off without their misplaced pity.

He knew they were itching to ask questions. He could feel the tension threatening to snap in the air. The Trojans mingled with the Foxes, adding their dreadful yet curious looks to the mix, but Renee, Abby, and Wymack helped to keep them silent, giving Andrew the time he needed to recuperate however he could.

He didn't quite manage to follow Abby's instructions, sleeping it fitful bursts and staring at the darkened ceiling for hours at a time. He eventually gave up altogether, sitting up slowly and slipping off the bed. The walkway and stairs were lit well enough that Andrew could make his way up to the main deck without a problem.

The sun was rising when Andrew kicked open the ship's plank, the wood extending over the burning waters. He sat down at the very edge of it, deliberately staring at the horizon instead of the sea beneath his feet.

It was eerie, the silence that stretched around him. He sat above the waters that housed monsters and death, yet he couldn't feel a thing. Everything was still, so still.

(He missed his session with Nathaniel). 

Andrew started when the thought hit him, random and unasked for. In the midst of his storming thoughts, of his confession to Aaron, of his promise to Drake, Nathaniel was unearthed for some ungodly reason. He'd been so caught up in his own problems that he'd forgotten about the young merman, forgotten that he'd promised to meet him at sundown. 

It bothered him. He didn't know why.

Maybe because he wasn't supposed to forget. Andrew Minyard wasn't supposed to forget - he never fucking forgot _anything,_ so why start now?

(He wondered if Nathaniel waited for him).

Promises, oceans, Andrew. Broken, broken, broken.

Some terrible anger welled up within him, so powerful that his insides felt like they were burning. Andrew finally moved his gaze from the rising sun to the dark waters beneath him, and he shifted his weight slightly so that the plank tipped over, just a little. 

He was no good if he couldn't keep his promises. And Andrew kept breaking them, breaking them, breaking them. 

He never fucking tried to think, didn't he?

Soft footsteps sounded behind Andrew, and he didn't bother to turn around. If he did, he might take the knife at his hip and throw it at the unfortunate person who had just put themselves at the brunt of his fury.

"Andrew."

Renee.

He didn't respond. He only grabbed the empty flask hanging off his side, clenching it so hard that he dented it a little, before hurling it away with all his might, ignoring how the action hurt his head and arm.

Renee walked onto the plank, carefully. It was sturdy enough to support both their weights for sure, but she still stepped forward slowly. Like she was approaching a cornered animal.

"Andrew, come back here." The silent _please_ hung in the air between them, but Renee was either kind enough or observant enough not to say it. Andrew sucked in a harsh breath, his fingernails leaving harsh crescents in his palms.

Renee tried again. "It's cold out. Come to Abby's office with me."

He would have been perfectly content with just sitting there on the plank, feet dangling precariously over the water. But Renee's intent gaze continued to burn into the back of his head, and he knew she was stubborn enough to stand there all day if she had to.

He moved slowly and stiffly, his muscles locked from the cold and stillness. Renee didn't help him up, only stood there as he finally got to his feet and turned around to face her.

"Thank you." Her voice was gentle, as always, as she led him back downstairs, out of sight from the rest of the crew.

Abby was with Wymack, leaving her office open for Andrew. They sat in silence, Renee on one side of the bed and Andrew on the other. Neither of them bothered talking for a long while, sharing the quiet with thoughts too loud for their skulls.

He tucked his knees close to his chest where most of his numbness resided. Renee watched his movements carefully. She looked exhausted and even unkempt. Her pale hair barely brushed her shoulders, messy and wind-blown. Shadows cut underneath eyes with a faded warmth, tainting her face like bloodstains.

Andrew wasn't the only one trying to outrun his ghosts, after all.

Renee noticed his gaze, a wan smile twitching on her lips.

"You've spread yourself thin," she said softly. "You can let yourself hurt. You can be tired."

Andrew stared at her, at her earnest eyes and the slight frown tugging at her lips. And he felt something inside him - not quite break, but shift. Maybe it fractured. It felt like a post that came loose on a ship, swinging wildly, out of control, splintered and fraying and ugly.

There _was_ only one correct answer, Andrew had told himself that over and over again. He simply _didn't_ allow himself to hurt anymore. 

This? This had all happened to him before. He was abandoned, raped, degraded - and the first few times he'd let himself hurt. He was only seven at the time, after all. Living on the streets never warranted much privacy or pity, but Andrew had never given anyone else a reason to take so damn much from him. The least he could do was deny them the satisfaction of his wounds. 

He had always been the quickest learner, and his lesson was this: the less you allow yourself to feel, the less you will be hurt.

So he didn't feel. Hence, he didn't hurt.

But then why did he still _feel_ Drake's hands? Why did he still dream that he'd shot Aaron instead of Tilda? Why did he feel so angry that he didn't manage to meet Nathaniel at sundown?

Why did his chest feel like there was a knife twisted in it, and why did he feel so damn helpless?

His shoulders started to shake, minutely. A broken laugh escaped from between gritted teeth. It was thin, high, and eerie, a ghost screaming as loud as it could when the most noise it could make was a frail whisper. Andrew covered his mouth with a trembling hand, like he could smother that terrible noise with his fingertips, but it just kept growing, growing, and growing. A tidal wave rising up his throat, threatening to flood him. 

At the same time, something warm began to slide down his cheeks. Salt stained his quivering lips, burning his tongue. A hiccup disrupted the horrible, endless laughter, and then another one, and Andrew suddenly was on the verge of shaking apart. 

But he didn't. He had always been the master of silence.

Burying his face in his arms, he sucked in a shuddering breath. The fresh air threatened to break him in half, cleaving him down the middle with a cruel hand. Renee remained a solidifying presence at his side when he thought he was floating away, unchained from his body. A spirit lost in purgatory. 

She occasionally whispered something comforting, but it was lost to the blood rush in Andrew's ears.

"Oh," he said weakly, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling on it. Pain prickled down his scalp, grounding him. "That does not feel good."

"No, it doesn't," Renee agreed quietly. She stared at her hands like she could still see the blood on them.

Andrew forced himself to inhale again, to keep inhaling until his stomach settled and his heart ceased throbbing. His face was still wet by the time the last hiccups died down, the howling wind coming to a standstill.

Renee's face slid into focus. She looked weary but also carefully hopeful, paper-thin, translucent. Solemn.

"You will rise," she said simply. A truth. A fact.

Andrew thought he was dying, just a little, but Renee shook her head. A tiny smile curved her lips, genuine this time. 

"Hold on, okay?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof. 
> 
> (the recovery begins - at least for andrew).
> 
> i'm working on a second part to this series and i'm soo excited about it (it's a short backstory fic for one of the characters in here, they haven't appeared yet but holy shit i'm so invested in them). any guesses as to whomst?


	16. but how broken is broken?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> riko makes a third move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: violence near the end (not terribly graphic)
> 
> also unedited. that should probably be a warning in itself :)
> 
> (recap from the last chapters since i suck at updating: drake sexually assaulted andrew, but renee killed him - this happened from an unfortunate coincidence: riko and the ravens had stopped at a pub nearby while drake happened to be there, and after mentioning the foxes and andrew's name, drake came to torment them on riko's behalf. andrew doesn't deal with what happened very well, he has a confrontation with aaron that results in him revealing that he killed tilda as well as the fact that he'd made a deal with drake in order to keep aaron and nicky safe. here we are. nathaniel's pov)

Nathaniel knew something was wrong when Andrew didn't show up to their next meeting.

The water had already eaten the sun up halfway, bleeding between its white foamy teeth and waves. Nathaniel crossed his arms and rested his chin over his wrists, staring into the distance where he knew the _Palmetto Foxhole_ would be docked. Hazily, he reminded himself that despite Andrew's promise to protect him and give him lessons, the Foxes couldn't afford to stay much longer. 

His father's deadline of returning was fast approaching, and the Foxes were never safe here in the first place.

But Andrew still hadn't come by the time the sun was only barely peeking above the waters, and Nathaniel was worrying despite himself. 

( _Monsters aren't supposed to feel this way,_ he could imagine his mother spitefully muttering in his ear).

Perhaps he'd softened too much for Andrew. Perhaps that promise he made was just that: a promise, nothing but binding words and half-light hope. 

Though at the same time, he knew this was something more. Nathaniel had accepted Andrew's offer because he'd wanted to stay close with Andrew, he'd wanted that tiny guarantee of protection _somewhere,_ at least. But wanting and reality were two completely different things, and when Nathaniel wanted, he was fatal.

(It was one of the first lessons Mary Hatford had ever taught him).

Nathaniel slipped back underwater, watching as the moon rose into the sky. Andrew's absence left him strangely hollow, and he tried to swim away from it as he dove into the depths.

Romero was the one that saw him as he swam back in the direction of Nathan's underwater caves. His eyes flashed yellow for a brief moment, before settling back into familiar cold obsidian.

"Where were you?" he asked, voice garbled by the water around them, but Nathaniel understood him just fine.

"Just out and about," he replied casually. After a brief moment and an icy glare, Romero seemed to accept Nathaniel's answer, flipping around and swimming in Lorraine's direction. Nathaniel let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, a flurry of bubbles rising from his gills as he allowed himself to sink lower and lower.

\--

Andrew's absence didn't stop him from visiting their same spot every day. But every day that went by without Andrew there carved a bigger hole in Nathaniel's chest - it terrified him. He glanced at the unused sword Andrew had given him, hidden between the rocks surrounding the pool. He never tried to touch it; he didn't think he would unless Andrew was there.

Attachments were dangerous indeed. His mother was the first to teach him that - it had been her downfall, after all. Nathaniel had heard limited stories of her time as a huntress, only learning of the brother and family she'd left behind for Nathan. She'd lost everything - and if she was alive now, she'd probably try to break Nathaniel for following in her steps.

But he wasn't really following her steps, Nathaniel told himself. Not yet, anyways.

It took three days before Andrew finally reappeared.

This time, Nathaniel was sitting on the rocks, already fully transformed, with the sword laying across his lap. He was staring at his reflection in the blade when he heard familiar footsteps crunching across sand.

Something too light flared in his chest as he turned around. Andrew stepped into the clearing, dressed in a long coat despite the afternoon heat. He approached Nathaniel, his face blank and impassive as ever. But the flutter in Nathaniel's chest died down when he noticed the bruises staining the side of Andrew's face, the slowly healing cuts on his temple and forehead.

And he wasn't alone.

A girl - Renee, Nathaniel remembered - stepped out from behind Andrew. She smiled warmly at him. "Hello, Nathaniel."

"Hello," he replied after a moment of silence. He sat back down on the rocks, fingers subconsciously brushing over the sword hilt as Andrew settled down as well. He wasn't looking at Nathaniel, but he could still see the shadows that weren't there before resting in Andrew's eyes: cobwebs startled by ghosts.

Nathaniel didn't know how much time passed while the three of them just sat in silence. Andrew stared blankly at the reflection of the sky in the small pool, his fingers occasionally twitching. Renee didn't offer much explanation for her presence at all, content to just sit a little farther away from the two of them, casually twirling a blade in her hands like she'd been born with it in her fingers. 

Finally, Andrew began to talk.

"You waited for me."

Nathaniel started, before glancing Andrew's way and smiling shyly. The man was staring at him, but the look in his eyes wasn't so blank after all. It was heavy, it was bored, but it was exhausted. 

He almost was unrecognizable.

"I did," Nathaniel said once his voice started working again. Andrew exhaled shortly, looking away.

"Pathetic."

"Why weren't you here?" Nathaniel asked, ignoring Andrew's jab. He didn't meant to make it sound like an accusation, but he knew at once, from the tension in Andrew's shoulders and the distant haze of his eyes, that Andrew thought differently. Glancing in Nathaniel's direction, Andrew's lips twisted.

"A certain bird decided to have some fun."

Renee shifted, and when Nathaniel glanced at her in confusion, he was startled to see the darkness in her expression. Her smile was gone, her eyes stormy.

Then Nathaniel looked back at Andrew, and something twisted in his chest as he put things together. The bruises and cuts, Renee's presence, Andrew's strange ghostliness. 

The anger burned slowly and was all-consuming. It felt cold at first, which was odd, because Nathaniel's fury was always red-hot like fire. It was the desire to tear open a throat and feel the warm blood gush over his claws, courtesy of his father. This anger was different - it felt a lot more like dreadful understanding: cold that clutched rotting bones and never let go.

"That - Riko," he said quietly.

Andrew's gaze flickered, but he nodded once.

Nathaniel clenched his fists, letting his blunt nails dig into his palm, deeply enough that a spike of pain shot through his hands. "What did he do?" he asked slowly.

"Why? Planning on killing him? Don't bother." Andrew shrugged carelessly, but Nathaniel knew a lie when he heard one - and Andrew was lying straight through his teeth. 

"Andrew," Renee murmured quietly.

"Why, yes," Nathaniel cut through. He knew his anger was leaking through his carefully constructed walls, falling between them like blood splatter. "He's a coward and a waste of space, and I don't understand why you haven't killed him already yourself."

"He is setting a trap," Andrew said, ignoring both of them. "First he killed Seth. Then he came for me. He is trying to get to Kevin, make him go back there crawling on his hands and knees. If you act up, then you will become his third target."

"But I mean nothing to Kevin, so why does it matter?"

"I beg to differ."

"He's afraid of me. That doesn't mean anything."

Andrew glared at him like he was speaking another language. "A monster or a martyr," he said callously. "You can't be both."

Nathaniel gracefully ignored Andrew's half-hearted insult, tracing his fingers over the sword in his lap again. "Is Riko really so insecure that he'd target even me over a few well-deserved insults?"

"You don't know him like we do," Renee suddenly interjected. "Riko can destroy anything that gets in his path, and he has."

"He really can't." Nathaniel set aside the sword, tucking it away between the rocks once more. Perhaps humans did wield some sort of power; but Nathaniel knew what it meant to be destroyed. He'd seen it happen to his mother; he'd seen it happen to himself; he'd _been_ the one doing the destroying. Riko was an amateur in a world of monsters, and Nathaniel wasn't afraid of him.

"I know you want to protect me," Nathaniel said after a few minutes, slowly and quietly, so that Renee wouldn't hear. Andrew's eyes flicked up to meet his, something resembling life finally flickering in otherwise barren hazel. "I know you made me a promise. But I don't want it to be at your expense."

"Stop treating me like I am breakable," Andrew said after a minute of silence. Renee twitched, like she wanted to protest, but Nathaniel beat her to it.

"You are."

A slow blink. "Really, now."

"You are," he said again, jerking his hand in Renee's direction. "She is. I am," he added after another moment. "But whatever broke me happened a long time ago, and there's nothing you can do about it anymore."

(Did things stop breaking once they were too shattered?)

Andrew said, "This isn't about me."

"You know, I can take care of myself."

Another slow blink. "Can you?"

"If Riko is hurting you to get to Kevin," Nathaniel said carefully, cautiously hiding away the potent anger in his voice, "then you should be watching your own back. Not mine. I'm not asking you to break your promise - just to remember yourself."

A soft noise came from behind him, and Nathaniel turned to see Renee gazing steadily at him. There was a tiny smile on her face, one that disappeared in a blink, but the gratefulness in her eyes spoke much louder.

"Besides," Nathaniel continued, "you've stayed here long enough. You probably should have left days ago. You can't possibly extend your protections when you have your own to think about."

There was a storm in Andrew's eyes; Nathaniel wasn't sure if he preferred the angry haze of a maelstrom or the barren nothingness of hazel hillsides. 

"You're right," Renee observed. "We've stripped the port of supplies by now, so that should be able to last us for a while. I don't think we've ever properly thanked you for giving us guidance, however."

Nathaniel shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable with the weight of her gaze. It was too kind; she was always too kind for Nathaniel's liking. "It was the least I could do."

"It's more than you could imagine," she said with a smile.

"My father," Nathaniel said quietly. "He will be back soon. You don't want to be here when he does."

"And you?" Renee asked.

"Don't worry about me," he said, glancing at Andrew, who remained silent. "You've gotten everything you needed from the port. You can't stay any longer."

"And where will we go?" Renee asked again.

"North. The farther you go the more populated it will become. My father's empire doesn't stretch far up north." 

The sky was dark and infiltrated by gentle moonlight by the time Renee and Andrew finally stood up to leave. Before Andrew could go, Nathaniel stepped in front of him.

Hazel eyes flickered up to meet his.

"Is this goodbye?" Nathaniel asked softly. 

(He didn't want this to be their final meeting. He felt it like a tear in his chest, bleeding and hollowing. His question was a desperate plea, disguised by cool).

Andrew blinked twice. Then slowly, he shook his head, and Nathaniel barely managed to bite back the sigh of relief. "I will find you," Andrew said.

Another promise - a small one, but one nonetheless.

Nathaniel nodded, clasping his hands behind his back as he watched Andrew turn around after another minute, following Renee toward their ship. 

The clearing felt colder without his presence, and Nathaniel dove back into the water before the chill could fully settle in his bones.

\--

Nathaniel knew the Foxes had left when he returned to the same place by the abandoned pier, only to find the _Palmetto Foxhole_ gone. It was for the best (they never should've even come here in the first place, he knew that), but it didn't stop the waning hollowness from spreading through his chest.

He dove back underwater, watching the trail of bubbles cast upwards by his tail. He would be able to find Andrew, he was sure of it. Either that, or Andrew would find him first.

Life underwater was quiet without Lola's maniacal presence or Nathan's burning cruelty. Nathaniel took some time to swim through his underwater caves, watching the schools of fish pass to and fro, before diving deeper to the heart of the kingdom.

Nathaniel did his best to ignore the various bones that littered the bottom of the sea floor. They were remnants of past sailors, any names tied to the corpses forgotten as they were relentlessly torn apart. Nathaniel had taken part in too many of the killings, but he supposed he was lucky things had been quiet lately, excluding the Foxes' presence.

He found Lorraine circling the dead corals. Her wispy hair had grown past her shoulders at this point, her skin dark enough that she almost blended in completely with the shadows.

She noticed Nathaniel's presence quickly, looking up from the fish she had been tearing apart.

"Getting bored?" Nathaniel asked, just to make conversation.

For a second, Lorraine's eyes shone yellow. They glowed through the depths, hot and chilling at the same time. 

Then they died back to obsidian.

"Always," she hissed, before turning away from him.

Nathaniel swam away from her as quickly as he could, diving past a group of merfolk on his way back up to the surface. He swam just below the air, staring up at the watery sky, rippling and contorting through the waves. 

The stars seemed like distant pinpricks. Mary had told Nathaniel stories about her life as a huntress, whenever Nathan was gone or they were safely alone for the night. She told him how she navigated the seas using only the stars as her map, how she was probably better than her brother at it. 

Every star pointed away from the Wesninskis. _Stay away. Stay away._ In the end Mary wasn't so skilled after all.

Nathaniel closed his eyes to suppress his spiraling thoughts, turning away from the starlight.

\-- 

Midnight brought mist rolling over the sea. 

It had been a few days since the Foxes had left. Nathaniel stuck to Andrew's advice and stayed in the water, occasionally visiting their clearing before diving back deep again. 

Things were quiet once again, which wasn't unusual for the Wesninskis. The rumors and legends served to keep their territory quiet, except for the few fools who tried to best the very monsters they didn't believe in. 

But the quiet always had to end somehow.

Nathaniel was circling the surface when he noticed the brightness in the distance. It was obscured by the fog, but it was unnatural and new tonight. He swam slowly toward it, ice prickling his stomach. If it was another new ship, there was no guarantee he could save the newcomers this time.

As he drew closer to the light, the fog parted to reveal a burning torch. Nathaniel paused, squinting through the darkness. 

He could make out the figures of several sailors standing around the fire, staring toward the water. The night turned their bodies to black, unrecognizable.

Nathaniel eventually got close enough that he could hear them talking.

" - can't possibly know. Wouldn't have run his mouth otherwise."

"He's a fool. They're all fools."

"There's no telling if this well make Kevin come back to us. This may anger Wesninski and turn against us."

Nathaniel bristled when he heard the Fox's name as well as his own passing through the sailor's mouth. He didn't know who the man speaking was, but as he looked above the water, he could barely make out the tattoo of a wing emblazoned across the man's wrist.

The Ravens.

Any ice within him disappeared, replaced with burning anger. Normally it would sicken Nathaniel to indulge in his fury, his temper one of the many things he'd inherited from his father, but he could feel it spreading like blood through water.

He drew closer, and nearly stopped breathing when he saw Riko step out from the shadows.

"Wesninski isn't here, and he knows his place," he said. "Jean, light another torch. This has to happen tonight - we've waited too long."

Nathaniel frowned as he mulled over Riko's words. 

_He knows his place._

His father didn't adhere to anyone, much less the Moriyamas. He was a villain in his own right, and he had no place he belonged except in the empire he ruled. Either Riko was an egotistical maniac who spouted lies like a second language, or Nathaniel wasn't the only one with shadow secrets.

His head spun with the revelation, and for a brief two seconds, Nathaniel forgot about staying hidden.

Those two seconds were all that mattered.

He felt Riko's gaze land on him before he saw it, and by the time Nathaniel returned to his senses and darted away, he knew it was too late. 

"I think it worked, Jean," Riko said, raising his voice so that Nathaniel could hear him. "Ah, foolish Nathaniel. Attracted to the torches, to the light, but never fast enough in the end. Better come out now, before you make me start searching for you."

Nathaniel resisted the urge to leap out of the water and slash the bastard's head clean off. He remained hidden behind a large, craggy rock, shutting his eyes tightly as Riko continued to talk.

"I'm sure you know what I did to Minyard already," he said loudly. "I'll be honest. I didn't think _you_ would ever associate with the lowly Foxes, being a Wesninski and all. Thought it was against your helpful little agenda, killing anyone who crosses your path. That makes us good allies, doesn't it? But again, I really am curious. What makes them so special?"

He paused as Nathaniel trembled with the physical effort of suppressing his anger. "What makes Andrew so special? Or...Kevin? Maybe I should run a few experiments. The Foxes are meant to be broken after all."

Nathaniel froze. The thought of Riko getting his hands anywhere near Andrew (again) sent a white-hot surge of anger through him, overwhelming any common sense or self-preservation he had left. Andrew had promised to protect Nathaniel, but he deserved to be protected too.

Riko had waded into the shallows at this point, awfully close to Nathaniel. He found his voice, his fury making it sharp and cold.

"You won't touch him."

"Ah, so you were listening. Why shouldn't I?"

"If you do, I will kill you." Nathaniel started to slide down. His claws were lengthening, his fangs not quite growing yet.

"Oh, you ignorant fool. You may think you have power, but you're just a pawn."

Riko was gloating, and that was when Nathaniel struck. He slashed his claws across the bastard's chest, stopping him mid-sentence and sending the other sailors into chaos. Riko stumbled backwards, clutching his torn shirt, and Nathaniel darted away.

But Nathaniel was angry, and when he was angry he was distracted. Distraction meant slowness.

He wasn't far from Riko when he felt piercing pain lance through his tail. He tried to escape, but he couldn't move. He was cornered. Hissing and lashing out, he tried to pull away from whatever was pinning him down, but only succeeded in causing himself more pain.

Low laughter sounded from above him, and Nathaniel finally looked up, fangs bared in a soundless snarl. Riko was standing in the shallows with the grin of a madman, his right hand clasped around his sword.

The sword that he'd used to impale Nathaniel's tail.

Blood seeped from the torn fin, clouding the water crimson. Nathaniel stopped thrashing around, only because if he moved any further, he knew he'd probably damage his tail irreparably.

Riko mistook his stillness as surrender.

"Not so safe now, are we?" he cooed, letting go of his sword to approach Nathaniel. He nearly bit off Riko's hand as soon as he reached out, so one of his crewmates - Jean, Nathaniel realized belatedly - grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked back. 

_Stop fighting,_ Jean was mouthing at him as Riko reached out to grab his chin, his cold, slick fingers sliding across Nathaniel's cheek.

"Fuck you," Nathaniel said, and he wasn't sure if he was talking to Jean or Riko, or both.

"Feisty," Riko mused, before finally dropping his hand. "I'm going to enjoy breaking you."

"You? You're nothing," Nathaniel growled, ignoring Jean's fingers tightening in his hair and the wide-eyed desperation crossing the sailor's face. "Things worse than you have tried and failed."

"I think he's challenging me. Jean, does that sound like a challenge to you?"

Jean slumped over, his grip going slack. "Yes, Riko," he said quietly.

"Thank you, Nathaniel," Riko said with false sweetness. "Maybe I'll leave the Foxes alone when I'm done with you."

"Riko. The Master wants you now." A third voice joined them, one Nathaniel didn't recognize. Riko paused for a moment, before clicking his tongue and flicking his hand at Jean.

"Take him with you," he ordered. Cold, obsidian eyes fell on Nathaniel, and he resisted the urge to spit in the bastard's face. A cruel smile spread across Riko's thin lips all the same. "Make sure he's human."

He left before Jean could protest, who finally unfroze and took his hand out of Nathaniel's hair. He walked over to where the sword was still stuck in Nathaniel's tail, resting a hand hesitantly over the hilt.

"You should never have stepped out the water," he whispered.

"You should have run while you had the chance," Nathaniel countered. The yellow glow in his eyes was fading, he could feel it, and his claws and fangs retracted. Jean pursed his lips, fingers curling over the sword handle.

Nathaniel knew it would hurt, but he still flinched and nearly drew blood from biting down on his lip when Jean finally yanked the blade from his tail. He knew the wound was more inconvenient than it was debilitating, but it still was bad enough that it couldn't begin to heal immediately. He couldn't even move his tail without wincing.

Jean walked up to him, grabbing his arm and pulling him up. "Transform. Now."

"What?" Nathaniel glared at him incredulously. "I can't - "

"You will do whatever Riko says, or he will hurt another one of your Foxes," Jean hissed. "Now turn before he comes back."

At the mention of the Foxes, any fire within Nathaniel died down. He was still furious, but he couldn't afford to drag them into this mess. Not anymore than they already were. His life was a net, tangled and knotted and suffocating - and already Andrew was snared in it. 

Andrew. 

His name struck something loose within Nathaniel, but he wasn't sure what. He only focused on turning, blocking out the pain in his tail - in his feet, now - and feeling his scales melting away into skin. 

Jean was staring at him when Nathaniel finished transforming, the water suddenly too cold against his bare skin. The wound Riko left on his tail was still there, a deep gash across his feet. It hurt like hell to move, the water around his legs clouded with murky crimson. Nathaniel gritted his teeth as he shifted around, squeezing his eyes shut as he forced himself to tune out the pain.

"I can't get up," he muttered sharply after a minute. Jean grabbed his arms and hauled him upwards, a broken gasp piercing Nathaniel's lungs from the movement. He felt vaguely sick, but Jean didn't let him rest. He only stopped long enough to remove his shirt and drape it over Nathaniel. It was large enough to cover him to his knees, funnily enough.

"You need me to carry you," Jean said, not quite a question. Nathaniel glared at him hotly, his fists clenching and unclenching as Jean approached him.

His fight was rapidly sputtering out like a dying flame, but Nathaniel still recoiled as Jean reached toward him. "Fuck you."

"Wesninski, you will walk or you will die. I'm in charge of you when Riko isn't around, and you will not bring any further punishment upon me. Now let me carry you, dammit."

Nathaniel bared his teeth, wishing his fangs were there, but reluctantly let Jean pick him up. He touched Nathaniel carefully, his fingers close together instead of open and possessive. He kept his grip firm, but not harsh enough to leave any bruises. 

Nathaniel had a feeling this was the most mercy he would get.

\-- 

(Maybe if you kept breaking a shattered thing it would completely disappear).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the spaced out updates. i've been rly busy with school and lacrosse season is starting, so i'll have almost no time to write. imma try to pre-write a bunch of chapters and hopefully get a schedule (i also have at least 2 other long fics in drafts rn bc i have no control and i am smart!!)
> 
> thanks for reading <3


	17. to each his own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nathaniel learns some things about his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: violence, descriptions of injuries, riko's bullshit
> 
> gratuitous jean & neil content. i couldn't help myself.

The _HMS Evermore_ was every inch black and red. 

The ship itself was completely black, aside from the outline of a red raven and the name emblazoned across the side of its hull. The flag had the same design, pitch black, raven rippling a way that made it look like it was flying.

Nathaniel supposed it was majestic. Beautiful, yes, in a crooked and twisted fashion. Like the silky darkness of the open ocean, an abyss that started and ended nowhere. Any sailor with some semblance of logic would be right to admire the Ravens, but from the way Jean's expression shuttered down as they approached the ship, Nathaniel knew the mighty ship was only a mirage for whatever hell happened within it.

Jean took him downstairs, his body shielding Nathaniel from the openly hostile or numb stares of the other Ravens. His grip tightened slightly on Jean's shoulders as they headed down one hallway.

They eventually reached a room off to the side. Jean managed to kick open the door while still holding onto Nathaniel, setting him down on the bed and enclosing them in privacy.

He rummaged through the chests and drawers and eventually came up with a roll of bandages in his hand and a bottle of liquor. Its pungent odor wafted through the air as soon as he popped out the cork. 

"This may sting," Jean warned as he sat down next to Nathaniel. He kept quiet, biting into his lower lip as Jean tipped the alcohol over his wounds before starting to bandage them rightly.

Nathaniel ignored the pain, buzzing insistently in his nerves. He focused on the thick curtain of hair falling into Jean's eyes, the dark shadows underneath them that weren't just from the ship's lack of light, and the tattoo staining his cheekbone. He was a patchwork sailor, made of barely there scars and faded bruises and dark tones - pale lips, pale face, pale heart. Jean was almost fascinating in that way.

As he worked on tending to Nathaniel's gash, he found his thoughts running back to the Foxes. To Andrew. 

Where Jean was subdued, Andrew was silent. One was the impression of ash leftover from a brief, lightning fire - a blackened and smudged silhouette. One was the fire itself, trapped underneath layers of cold ice - glowing a soft orange that could have just been a trick of the light. 

Damaged, broken, damaged.

Somewhere, things changed. Nathaniel should never have been in this position: sitting on a foreign ship with a stranger tending to his wounds, after being impaled through his tail, after _choosing_ to reveal himself to someone dangerous. He was supposed to remember how to save himself - his entire life and lineage had depended on that. 

_Kill first, or be killed._

_Hunt, or be hunted._

Nathaniel was sitting in the jaws of a trap, and it was closing in on him. But for some reason he didn't feel scared at all.

Never before had he had others' lives to consider. He was a lone soul, trailing through the depths and dragging down anyone who dared to venture into his territory. It was what made him powerful, what made him feared.

This: throwing himself into the arms of a madman so that he wouldn't be able to touch Andrew or the Foxes - this was new. Yet he was sure of himself. 

He guessed it was a war between selfishness and selflessness, and he'd never associated himself with the latter. 

Nothing good could come of this, nothing good for him. But if the Foxes were safe, if _Andrew_ was safe, if Riko wouldn't try touching him again (Nathaniel's skin still boiled with fury at the thought of _Riko_ doing something to Andrew), then Nathaniel wouldn't regret this.

Jean finished bandaging Nathaniel's feet, tossing aside the bandages and standing up. He tugged on another shirt along with a leather coat, holding the collar up close to his throat. 

"The Master - Tetsuji - will want to see you," he finally said. 

"Okay," Nathaniel said snidely. Jean exhaled shortly, grabbing something from a chest and throwing in Nathaniel's direction. 

"Get dressed. He doesn't like to wait."

Nathaniel shot Jean a heated glare, which he readily ignored, before forcing himself to put on the clothes. They were somewhat big on him but they were a decent fit anyways.

He got out of the bed slowly, gingerly pressing his feet against the cold floor. Pain flared up his legs as he tried putting weight on his feet, bad enough to make him feel sick. Jean watched with a critical eye as he unsteadily stood up, shifting around and shutting his eyes against the throbbing.

This was nothing, he reminded himself as he unsteadily followed Jean out of the darkened room. This was nothing.

Jean slowed down for him as they made their way down the empty halls. He seemed to sense Nathaniel's thoughts, saying quietly, "The rest are out mapping the land."

"What did you mean when you said you were in charge of me?" Nathaniel asked after a short silence.

The sailor glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes, his lips twitching in a frown. "The Ravens operate on pair systems. We take care of each other but we also keep each other in line. That's how this works. If one of us gets into an accident, the other will assume our duties. So while you are here, I am your partner. You will listen to what I say and do as I say, so we both stay out of trouble."

Nathaniel didn't bother asking what happened to the sailors that couldn't do their jobs anymore. The black pallor of the ship, the distantly stagnant air, and the quietness of the crew members told the story for him. 

He thought of Kevin as they drifted through the hall. He thought of what Andrew had told him about the star navigator, his fall from the top and subsequent battle to stand back up. 

Apparently Riko had crippled Kevin's hand and thrown him overboard in a fit of rage when he started showing him up. But now Riko wanted Kevin back, and he was taking the rest of the Foxes down until he got what he wanted.

Anger was familiar and bitter, closing upon Nathaniel's throat as he glared at the moving shadows. 

None of the Foxes deserved to be dragged into Riko's world like that, even more so Nathaniel's world. But here they were, entangled and trapped. The least Nathaniel could do was protect them wherever he could. 

(He'd saved them once, he would save them again if he had to).

Jean led Nathaniel into a private room that he assumed as the captain's cabin. There, Riko was waiting for them alone, smiling cruelly and silently. His sword hung off his side, only half-sheathed.

"You know," Riko said smugly, "your lack of survival instincts is supremely distressing. However, that makes this more fun for me."

"I'm not afraid of you," Nathaniel said. He thought that was a recurring theme here. 

"Oh, what a fool." Riko stepped closer until he was right in front of Nathaniel, his hand coming up to snatch Nathaniel's chin and force his head upward. "You really don't know the truth about your family, don't you?"

"I don't know what truth there is," Nathaniel retorted. Riko's grip was becoming bruising, and he couldn't talk clearly from how tightly Riko was gripping his chin. 

" _Fool,_ " the bastard hissed again. He let go of Nathaniel's chin and forced him back with a harsh push. "Your father belongs to the Moriyamas, you idiot. Your father, your family, everyone - they all belong to _us._ These waters? They're _ours._ "

Nathaniel blinked, rather stupidly. He stood still as he struggled to comprehend Riko's words, spat out faster than a throwing knife. And when he finally did understand, the world threatened to tilt beneath his unsteady feet.

It wasn't the gentle rocking of the ship almost tipping Nathaniel over. It was the realization that all this time, his father - _Nathan Wesninski_ \- had been a pawn. 

Yes, he was every inch a monster, and every inch merciless. But a tail paired with a collar and chain was useless, and Nathaniel's father was tied to the Moriyamas without the key.

He could have accused Riko of lying. He could have shoved him away as well, chosen not to believe him. But now that the truth was there, right in front of him, everything seemed to shift in place: the Ravens' encounter and supposed safety years ago, where Nathaniel first saw Kevin and Riko together; the fact that his father's followers didn't try to assault the Ravens while they were here; the cockiness that Riko held around Nathaniel when he could very easily kill him.

The reasonableness of it was dizzying, and Nathaniel felt sick.

He didn't let any indication of his emotion show, only tilting his head slightly to the side and forcing a deep breath through his lungs. He let some of his father's smile carve its way across his face, revealing sharpened teeth and a bloody tongue.

(His father - and subsequently, Nathaniel - might have been owned by the Moriyamas; but at the end they were still creatures and animals - they still bore bottomless rage and desperation and the _sea_ within scarred chests).

"Oh?" he said. "I would beg to differ. You cannot ever truly chain a monster. I'd love to see you try. You think I'm afraid of you? I'm the Butcher's son."

Riko's smug smile disappeared. He snapped, "Do us all a favor and do not speak again. Your insolence has already cost you two teammates. You cannot even imagine what's coming next."

Holding up one steady hand, Nathaniel growled, "I'm shaking with fear."

"You should be." Riko stepped closer, one hand falling on top of his sword's hilt. "You think you can defy me because I am not your father, but you are forgetting one very important fact: I am the family your father was afraid of. And yes, Nathaniel, he was _very_ afraid."

"My father," Nathaniel said quietly, "fears no one. And you're not part of that family, remember? You're the _cast-off_."

Jean's sharp inhale was infinitely louder than the way Riko gaped at Nathaniel.

He started forward, but someone else cut in with a low voice.

"Enough."

Tetsuji Moriyama was an aging man, wrinkles ruining an otherwise youthful complexion. Silver hair was beginning to grow near his temples and forehead, strange streaks in otherwise obsidian hair. In his hands was an ornate cane, a bronze raven's head clasped underneath his fingers. 

He stepped out from the shadows and looked over Nathaniel as Riko snapped his ugly mouth shut and stepped back, his otherwise blank face twitching in something like disdain. He waited for a minute to pass before tapping his cane once against the floor.

"Nathaniel Wesninski," he said, like he was tasting each and every syllable. "You will find that your insolence will not be tolerated here. You will kneel."

Nathaniel crossed his arms behind his back, clenching his hands into fists. "No."

Jean whispered his name, or breathed it like a ghost would. Even Riko shut up and shut down, taking a step back as Tetsuji's face shuttered down even further.

The old man tapped his cane against the floor once more. "You will kneel," he repeated.

With the taste of absent regret, Nathaniel grinned and spat, "Make me."

The cane came up too fast for him to dodge it. Catching him in the face across the cheek, Nathaniel was knocked to the ground. The taste of metal flooded his mouth, warm and disgusting, but Nathaniel's face was too numb for him to register anything else. 

He looked up just in time to see Tetsuji's cane coming down again, this time catching him in the ribs. Then his shoulder, then his arm, then his legs, until Nathaniel was curled up against the floor and struggling to breathe.

Tetsuji didn't stop beating him until he finally passed out.

\--

Nathaniel woke up in a world hazy with pain. He could barely open his eyes, but he forced them open anyway. 

He blinked away the blurriness in his vision, taking in his surroundings. Someplace where his mind wasn't in agony, he recognized that they were back in Jean's room. 

And _Jean_ was approaching him with rope in his hands.

"What are you doing," Nathaniel gritted out. 

"Oh, you're awake." Jean looked up, and Nathaniel noticed the bruise darkening the side of his face. 

"Fuck you."

Jean tied Nathaniel's wrists tightly against the bed, the knots too tight and chafing against his skin. Nathaniel tried to jerk his hands away, but only succeeded in tearing apart his skin even further. Something warm was trickling down his forearms, and with a sickening jolt, Nathaniel realized it was blood.

"You're a coward," he spat as Jean stood up.

"No," Jean said, his voice blank and face grave. Nathaniel was so hellbent on glaring at him that he barely noticed the tremble in Jean's hands, which he quickly hid behind his back. 

"No what? You're just bowing down to that scoundrel!" he hissed, struggling even more, barely managing to ignore the white-hot pain lancing down his arms. "You're nothing but a coward, like everyone else on this fucking ship."

Jean shook his head again. A shadow passed over his face, one that somehow snuffed out any life left within him.

"No," he said quietly. "This is how we survive."

Nathaniel opened his mouth again to spit out more insults, but the door swung open and in sauntered Riko, knives gleaming in both hands and teeth glinting in a macabre smile.

"Ah, look at you," he crooned, kicking the door shut behind him. Jean twitched, a half-flinch. "Not so free now, are we? But then again, you never were."

"Stay away from me," Nathaniel snapped, though it wasn't like he could do much to defend himself. Riko knew that as well, from the humorless laugh that dripped from his mouth like poison.

"You, Wesninski, aren't going anywhere. Not this time." He climbed onto the bed, legs on either side of Nathaniel, effectively pinning him down. "I still can't believe you were stupid enough to think you were actually free - but then again, maybe your father was being smart. Someone like you wouldn't fit in with an empire like us. I'm going to teach you your place."

Nathaniel twitched, his fists clenching. "You're nothing," he said through gritted teeth.

"I'm going to love hurting you, like I loved hurting Kevin." Riko reached out and stroked his fingers over Nathaniel's cheek. "Look at that pretty face. Too bad I'll have to ruin it."

Nathaniel felt himself smiling, a perfect image of his father's grin, one hellish enough to surpass Riko's. A fire dumped over fire, a natural-born monster and a man who rotted long before his corpse did.

"You are a sick individual." He sounded out the syllables slowly, putting enough venom behind each word that Riko's smile disappeared, replaced by a dark look of pure hatred. "I _hate_ you."

The tip of a knife pressed against Nathaniel's lips, hard enough to just barely break his skin. Nathaniel didn't tense, though the cold touch of a metal blade was new compared to the hot slash of claws. He merely stared back at Riko's obsidian eyes, smile locked in place.

The bastard's face twitched, and he leaned closer.

Then he was smiling again, and he asked, "Who is your King, Nathaniel?" 

Nathaniel spat in his face.

Riko froze, before slowly reaching up to touch the glob on his face. He stared at his fingers for a moment like he couldn't believe what just happened, and then seized Nathaniel's face with a bruising grip. He pried Nathaniel's mouth open and spat in it, before clamping his hand over Nathaniel's mouth so he couldn't cough it back up. A pair of hands grabbed his feet and pinned down, right over where his wounds were - Jean. 

The knife was, again, pressed against his chest. But this time, Riko twisted the blade so it could slip under his skin.

He leaned down until his vile lips were right next to Nathaniel's ear. His breath, hot against Nathaniel's skin, sent his skin crawling.

"I'm going to make this as terrible as I know how," he said - a promise. "When it's too much for you, don't hesitate to cry."

\-- 

For the most part, Nathaniel was kept away from the water. Riko sometimes would force him to stand for hours upon hours, staring out at the still sea. His bones would ache and his skin would feel like it was chafing off with the wind, and still if he fidgeted too much there was a knife tracing his cheek again.

It was hell. It wasn't nothing, it was a knife stuck in his ribs and stabbing him every time he so much as breathed or twitched. But Nathaniel tolerated it, went through with it - because there were people on the line if he tipped Riko off even further.

He thought of Andrew fading into the sunset, hollow but still existing, eyes seeing but not seeing. He thought of Kevin, hand scarred and heart scarred, eyes haunted but present. He thought of Wymack, weather-worn and time-worn, eyes silently grieving but burning as he watched his Foxes. 

And Nathaniel kept standing.

He didn't know how much time had passed; he lost count of how many times the sun rose and fell. Or maybe that was the constant pounding in his head whenever he was pushed down or beaten. 

(But he was a Wesninski - and the only person who could _truly_ break him was himself. He wouldn't let anyone else do it for him: not his father, not Riko, not anyone).

It didn't matter that he was technically owned by the Moriyamas. The only things he'd answer to were the sea, his mother, and himself. One was uncontrollable, one was dead, and one was still breathing. 

That was all that mattered.

"I'll tell you a secret," Nathaniel murmured one night as Jean tended to his wounds. Pain kept spiking through his body as Jean skillfully threaded a needle between Nathaniel's torn skin, stitching it back together into a patchwork of red and black. Riko's precise, thin knife scars stood out next to the thick, scrawling terrain of claw marks leftover by Nathaniel's father and followers.

Thick brows furrowing, Jean waited until he finished up the stitches to answer. "I think you harbor enough secrets already," he said, reaching over to grab the roll of bandages he'd pilfered from the ship's nurse.

"You don't know which one I'm going to tell."

"I don't care." He made Nathaniel bare his arm so he could start bandaging it, shoulder down. 

A few tense minutes passed. The silence became crushing, a heavy anchor piercing through Nathaniel's chest and dragging him through the ocean floor. It felt like it was only the two of them remaining on the ship, but Nathaniel knew that was not the case.

Lifting a trembling hand, he touched his fingers to the side of his neck, where his gills would have been.

"A mermaid's kiss is still sacred," Nathaniel whispered into the rotten air, "no matter how bloodied the lips are."

Jean's face twisted, the dark shadows almost completely obscuring the tattoo marking his left cheekbone. "Save the poetry," he finally replied, wrapping Nathaniel's bandages a little too tightly.

"Why won't you leave?"

"Why won't you just stop asking questions?" Taking a final swig from the rum, Jean tossed it aside and stood up, making his way to the bed. Nathaniel felt too tired to follow him, exhaustion weighing down on his muscles and pinning him to the ground.

"Tell me a secret." 

"You're going to get us both killed."

"How?" Stretching out his sore legs, Nathaniel winced as his bandaged feet twinged in pain. "Riko won't know."

Jean glared at him, but behind the heated anger Nathaniel recognized the hollowness there. It was the kind of lurking defeat that came from years after years of being beaten to the ground and told to stay down, of fighting back only to lose a limb, a tooth, a piece of oneself. Years of spitting blood up until its metallic taste was watered down, years of watching others roam free with tied wrists.

The frustration Nathaniel felt faded away, leaving behind numb understanding. 

Jean held the weight of a life forsaken and forgotten upon his shoulders. Nathaniel held the weight of the sea and its monsters upon his own.

He slowly sat up, reaching over to grab the rum. He took a tentative sip, wrinkling his nose at the sweet taste. Jean watched him, losing the anger in his gray irises and leaving behind a blank, snow-singed landscape.

"I don't understand why you aren't scared of him," he finally said as Nathaniel stared back.

"Riko?" 

Lips thinning into a white line, Jean nodded.

Maybe it was the exhaustion and blood loss throwing Nathaniel off kilter, maybe it was that hollowness they shared that kept growing bigger, bigger, taking and taking. His lips twisted in a lopsided smile, and a breathless laugh that was more of a pathetic attempt at one was jostled from his lungs.

"He's nothing to me," he said quietly, shaking the rum bottle and watching the liquid slosh around inside. "I have bigger and worse monsters in my life. He's an inconvenience, that's what he is."

"You know your father is actually an agent of the Moriyamas," Jean said. 

Anger briefly washed through Nathaniel, a tidal wave that died away too quickly. He forced himself to loosen his grip around the bottle, taking a deep breath that stabbed him on the way out.

"But that doesn't mean Riko has any power over me," he said. "I'm a monster of the sea. Riko is not my villain."

There was a sick impression of a smile on Jean's face when Nathaniel looked back up. It looked like someone had dipped their thumb in blood and smeared it all over Jean's lips, slashing curves in with a knife and then stitching them back up too messily. 

"But he is mine," he murmured. 

A brutal silence followed his words, a grave confession spat out like snow and gunpowder. Nathaniel tilted his head back, meeting Jean's eyes. The smile fell from Jean's lips, and in that moment, he looked more like a ghost than a man.

"To each his own," Nathaniel finally said, saluting him.

Jean didn't answer, only settling onto his side and murmuring, "Get up and go to sleep."

It took a colossal amount of effort to stand up and make his way over to the bed, and Nathaniel collapsed ungracefully onto it as soon as he was close enough. Jean remained a constant, unmoving weight by his side as he curled up, ribs twinging and pain pulsing. 

Their breaths evened out together.

\-- 

"It's your last night here, you know that, right?" Jean asked quietly.

Nathaniel tipped the half-drained flask into his mouth, waiting until he'd swallowed away the taste of blood to answer.

"What day is it?"

"Riko can't keep you forever. He knows that," he said. "As long as you 'know your place.'"

"My place is with the sea. Not here."

Jean sighed brokenly. "I'm sending you off tomorrow in the early morning. He doesn't want the other Ravens seeing."

Midnight rang around them. Jean's breathing was just slightly labored, shuddering on the way out, the only sound between the two of them. The darkness was all-encompassing, covering them like fog, a moment of respite in a maelstrom - except for the faint light of a lamp in the corner.

Nathaniel managed to roll over onto his back with difficulty, his wounds screaming in pain as he did. A sharp gasp made its way up his throat, but he bit it back by sinking his teeth into his lip.

There was a shuffling noise on Jean's end of the bed, and Nathaniel could feel his gaze settle on him. The weight of it was heavy, almost too heavy to bear, but Nathaniel searched the dark for Jean's eyes anyways.

He could see the faintest outline of Jean's body only a few inches from him. He stared at Jean for a while, watching the occasional glimmer of his irises spark up then fade out, a dying star.

(There were no North Stars here - only hands desperately searching and blind survival).

"Nathaniel," Jean finally said - or whispered. His voice was completely spent and broken.

"Jean," he answered.

There was a sharp inhale, then a quiet exhale. Then another one, and Jean began to speak. 

"My parents sold me to the Moriyamas when I was a child," he whispered without an overture. "I was a debt. When money isn't enough payment, a life is. The Moriyamas were their only way out, and it didn't matter that I was only a child or that I had a little sister."

He paused, gathering his breath. Nathaniel remained silent - you couldn't fight or stop a storm that had been brewing for years. You just had to take the torrents and floods, and hope that when you survived, you would be enough to repair the wreck. 

"I haven't seen them ever since the moment I stepped on this damned ship, and I won't ever see them again. Riko made sure of it." There was a quiet exhale, an impression of a laugh.

"I learned quickly how to survive here. Listen to what Riko and the Master say, and never question them. Never outshine them. Riko needs to be number one. He will do anything to keep his place."

"Including killing his own sailors," Nathaniel said quietly. Jean's eyes flickered up to meet his, so he made an explanation. "I'd seen your ship once before, but not this up close. Riko had thrown several sailors overboard and left them to my father. I suppose it was a warning, wasn't it?"

Jean's throat bobbed as he swallowed, but he nodded. "It was."

"I never quite understood why that happened. I was young," Nathaniel murmured. "I didn't understand why they would willingly sacrifice their own men for my father, or why my father and his followers didn't try and take down the rest of you. But now I do."

Choosing not to comment on Nathaniel's naivety, Jean said, "You saw Kevin," not quite a question. 

"I did. Number two. He recognized me, you know."

Jean's face twisted. He said bitterly, "Kevin wasn't supposed to leave too."

Years of repressed pain remained buried in his voice, the only indication that he was feeling anything at all being the faint tremble of his words as they died down. Familiar anger stirred in Nathaniel's stomach, though it was as weak and exhausted as he was. There was no point in getting angry at what happened in the past, especially if it was another person's - for it had happened already - but that didn't mean he had to forgive or forget.

He answered Jean's waning defeat with his own conviction.

"I'm going to get you out," he said into the dark.

There was a lapse in noise, like Jean had stopped breathing completely. Nathaniel looked over just as he reanimated, shaking his head. 

"You can't do that."

"I will." A smile, worn and lopsided, twitched listlessly on his lips. "You'll see."

Jean blinked at him, disbelieving. Nathaniel stared back at him, smiling falling away into sincerity. 

"I swear it," he said - a deathbed promise.

A minute of silence. Then a hoarse whisper, "Go to sleep."


	18. look what you did

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nathaniel returns. andrew endures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: implied torture/violence, discussions (again, not explicit) of past sexual assault
> 
> (just in case this was confusing, andrew's pov in this chapter took place Before nathaniel was taken).
> 
> recap of the last few chapters since i haven't updated this in a WHILE:
> 
> after being assaulted by drake, andrew struggles to cope. his past has been dug up and thrown back at him, but renee is helping him to deal with it. he tells aaron about what drake did to him and also that he killed tilda, thus starting the twins' cold war. 
> 
> the foxes head up north since it will become too dangerous for them to stay any longer. andrew makes another promise to nathaniel: that he will find him.
> 
> meanwhile nathaniel is captured by the ravens. they reveal to nathaniel that the wesninskis actually belong to the moriyamas - they basically rule the seas for the moriyamas while they try to become the most dominant trading/hunting syndicate in the world. nathaniel and jean forge a friendship, and nathaniel promises to get jean out from the ravens.

There were scars on Nathaniel's body that didn't belong there. There were ragged wounds and bruises and hollow places that weren't there before. 

But he pushed them aside, let them fester in the back of his mind, until he could get as far from the damned ship as he could.

Jean took him away the next morning, early enough that the sun still hadn't risen yet. It was a strange hour, when the moon was disappeared, but the ghost of light still remained, bathing everything in a supernatural glow. 

None of the other Ravens were on deck, but Nathaniel swore he could feel eyes boring into his back as Jean led him to the plank. 

"Do you really have to be this dramatic?" Nathaniel asked, his voice hoarse from hours of screaming alternating with hours of silence. 

"We are Ravens. Of course." Jean raised his eyebrows but leaned to the side, watching as Nathaniel rolled his eyes and stepped close to the edge of the plank. He gazed at the sailor for a moment, cocking his head to the side.

He thought it was amazing that after all Jean had been through, he still had the nerve to wake up in the morning and say things like that. It was a different kind of courage, one easily mistaken for cowardice, even toeing the line a little - but bravery nonetheless. It was the quiet kind, but something Nathaniel could understand more clearly now.

But now Nathaniel had to leave Jean and Riko for a different monster altogether: his father.

He hadn't realized it, but he'd stayed for two weeks. It meant three things: Nathaniel had been missing for fourteen days, the Butcher of the Caribbean was returning home, and Nathaniel needed to think of a _good_ excuse if he wanted to survive. 

He hadn't survived Riko's abuse for nothing, after all. He wouldn't. He'd endured the maniac's torture so he couldn't lay a hand on the Foxes, on _Andrew_ , and he'd also made a promise to Jean that he'd free him. Too much rode on Nathaniel's shoulders now, and his father couldn't end him when for the first time, others relied on him.

He voiced none of this to Jean, who gazed at him critically. Nathaniel merely nodded his head and tapped two fingers to his temple. 

"Remember what I said," he told Jean, not giving him a chance to reply before he tipped off the edge of the plank and fell into the water.

Immediately, the world went silent, muted. The sea was cold, caressing his skin and cradling him in a deadly embrace. Nathaniel stared up at the blank sky, at Jean's blank face when he moved to the edge of the plank to stare down into the water, and then shut his eyes. 

After two weeks of being unable to transform, turning into his true form was strange to remember. He slipped out of the human clothes given to him, wiggling his tail about in the water and relishing the freeing sensation of bubbles sliding between his fingers and fins. Nathaniel opened his eyes, inhaling deeply and sighing, watching the flurry of bubbles rise to the surface. 

Then he twisted around and glanced at his tail. Where Riko had impaled him, there was now a large tear in his tail, splitting it into three fins instead of two. Nathaniel glanced down at himself, counting the new scars that had formed, counting the number of bruises beginning to disappear now that he'd regained his healing powers. 

He looked back up and Jean was gone. Nathaniel clenched his fists, gathering his bearings, and swam off as fast as he could.

One hell for another.

\--

Aaron couldn't make himself look Andrew in the eye.

Andrew didn't waste his time dwelling on his brother's reactions. In his eyes, Andrew was probably everything shallow everyone else had ever said about him: a cold-blooded killer, a heartless monster, a brother he'd lose twice. Regret was something Andrew refused to feel - the past was the past, and he did what he had to do - so he turned a cold shoulder to his brother as well. 

He'd killed Aaron's abuser, he'd given himself to Drake so that Aaron and Nicky would be safe, and he'd survived. He was clawing his way to the surface with a heavy cannon tied to his ankle, one inch at a time. Drowning all the time.

The Foxes followed Nathaniel's instructions and began to sail north. Andrew found himself standing by the plank more often, staring at the dark waters as they passed, at the pinprick reflections of the stars within them. He tried squinting for a flash of red in the depths, but he saw nothing. 

He felt nothing and everything.

Drake's aftermath left him hollow and raw. The bastard had died, gotten what he deserved, but that didn't mean his ghost didn't haunt Andrew. He knew how to fight off his demons and keep his ghosts at bay, knew how to stare at the ocean and ground himself with it, but his sleep was still strained with nightmares and groping hands. 

But Andrew wouldn't let him win. He might have been thrown back to rock bottom again, but he'd survived too much and fought too hard just for Drake or Riko to pull him back under for the last time. Violence and blood, pain and rage, battles and survival. Sundowns and sunrises, endings and beginnings, numbness and faint life. Things Andrew knew like an ancient poem, things he would do again even if it meant he tore his own hands open. 

(He looked down at his broken pieces - 

**LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO ME**

and he clenched his fists around them - 

**AND NOW LOOK WHAT I'LL FUCKING DO TO YOU** ).

Above all else and below everything else, Andrew was a warrior - even if no one else saw it.

Wymack called a meeting between the entire crew a day after they set sail. Abby remained at his side, a comforting presence for the solemn Foxes as they filtered in. By then, knowledge of Riko's doing was common. They knew what he'd done to Seth, and by default what he'd done to Allison; they knew what he'd done to Andrew, and by default what he'd done to his entire family. 

But that was the thing with the Foxes: an attack on one was an attack on all, despite the rifts and divisions between them. 

Andrew stood next to Kevin as Wymack cleared his throat, gesturing for silence. He caught Jeremy staring at them with unbridled concern in his eyes, and he gave Andrew a small but earnest smile when he met his gaze.

Aaron, however, was sitting away from his family, it seemed. He mingled with the former Trojans, next to Katelyn in particular. His eyes were shadowed and fleeting, only once snagging onto Andrew before darting away like the very sight of Andrew burned him. 

Renee stationed herself by Andrew. Observant as she was, she glanced between Andrew and Aaron, before pursing her lips and turning to Wymack. Whatever she noted about them, Andrew didn't bother to find out. She squeezed his hand gently, before making her way over to where Allison sat.

"I'm not going to waste my time with niceties," Wymack started gruffly. "You all know what Riko has done. You all know what he's going to _keep_ doing until he gets what he wants."

Kevin made a broken noise in his throat, but Andrew pinched him harshly between the shoulders. "Shut up," he muttered. 

"What _I_ want you to do, what I _know_ you will do, is to not give in," Wymack said, gazing at Kevin and Andrew. The next words he spoke to Kevin. "Riko is a conniving little bastard, and he's not going to get you back. I've told you this before: he'll need to get through Andrew, me, and all of this damn crew. As long as we're Foxes, we have each others' backs." Turning to the others, he commanded, "Do you understand what 'having each others' backs' means? That means no more of your lone wolf shit, no more of your divisions, no more of this name-calling or these petty battles. 

"This is a change that was long overdue, and I fucking hate that it had to get to this point to finally pull you together. That's my fault too. But people have been hurting you long enough, and it's about time that we got our act together. No one, not Riko, not anyone, can get to us if we're one unit, one crew, so that's what we will do." Wymack stared at each of his Foxes, mouth twisted into a determined frown. "Do you understand?"

"Yes." They answered in unison, and in that moment, their voices together could have crumbled any monster. Andrew didn't say anything, but he felt the faintest tug in his chest all the same.

As the noise died down, he felt someone's gaze on him. Andrew looked around, and eventually his gaze settled on Allison, who'd finally looked up from her hands.

She was staring at Andrew with dead eyes. But her lips were twisted into a grim frown as she said lowly, "He won't win. We won't let him."

Wymack paused and looked between the two of them, like he was waiting for the first clap of thunder to sound. But Andrew only nodded, minutely, in Allison's direction, before turning away.

It was true. Wymack was right. Riko had hurt both of them, whether they liked to admit it or not - and that was reason enough to unite in solidarity.

"Okay," Jeremy said slowly when the rest of the Foxes remained silent. "How are we going to fight them? He's going to keep trying to get to us, isn't he?"

"We'll unleash our own monster on him." Allison's face flickered into a cold smile, before it fell away completely.

Andrew didn't meet her eyes, and she didn't try to look at him either. Instead he focused on Renee's blank expression, one that flickered just slightly when she noticed his gaze.

Riko had tried to tear the Foxes apart in his craze to get Kevin back - instead he'd only united them further, tied them together with too-tight ropes bruising their wrists. None of them would let go, not now. 

"I don't want you provoking _anything,_ " Wymack said, though there was a fierceness on his face that rivaled the glaring sun itself. "Let them bring the fight to you, if they dare. Do _not_ , for the love of God, try anything. Stay together, stay united. I will not lose any more of you, do you understand?"

Once the Foxes nodded their assent again, Wymack clapped his hands together. "Alright. Back on the deck."

Andrew was on his way out when Wymack called him back in. He stayed, hands clasped behind his back as he watched the rest of the Foxes file out. Renee left with Allison, though she cast a supportive smile in Andrew's direction before she went out the door.

"I'm only going to ask you this once, Minyard. So I expect an honest answer," Wymack said once everyone left. He had a flask of liquor in his hand. "Are you going to be okay?"

He didn't ask Andrew if he was okay now - of course he wasn't. Wymack wasn't the most undamaged man in the world - there were things about his Foxes that he understood on a more personal level than most would think. He _did_ ask if Andrew would be okay in the future - however near or far that future was. 

Being "okay" wasn't something Andrew thought of much, not when he was a child, not at the present. He merely focused on the deals and promises that kept him anchored to the world, he merely focused on surviving and that was enough. 

But he supposed Drake was dead, and the last remnants of his past were now nothing more than damaged, rotting relics. It was enough to spark _something_ in the midst of nothing.

He had his myriad of problems, but he supposed he had the time to work through them.

Lifting his head to look Wymack in the eye, Andrew replied, "Oh, Coach. I thought you knew not to ask the questions you already knew the answer to."

A shadow of understanding passed his face, and Andrew didn't miss the glimmer of relief in Wymack's eye as he tossed the flask at Andrew. 

"Don't let Abby catch you with that," he said, before waving his hand in a dismissal. Andrew popped the flask open and drained its contents, letting the door swing shut on his way out.

\-- 

Nathaniel knew he was done for when Lola saw him swimming in their direction. 

He didn't see his father with her, which he supposed was lucky, but Romero, Lorraine, and Jackson were all there - probably looking for him.

"Where have you been, Junior?"

Lola's smile was stretched unnaturally wide as she took in the new scars on Nathaniel's body, to the point where he could see the strain in her neck. He remained silent, letting Lola look her fill.

She darted forward and snatched him by the chin, yanking him closer. Her sharp nails left indents on Nathaniel's skin. "We didn't appreciate your little venture, Junior. Didn't Daddy teach you to answer questions when they're asked?"

It was hard to talk with her vice-like grip, but Nathaniel managed to say, "I-I didn't try to leave."

"Two weeks," Romero said. "You were gone for two weeks. We searched for you but you were nowhere to be found - "

Lorraine interrupted him. "If you tell us the truth now perhaps it'll lessen your father's punishment."

Nathaniel felt his heart go cold at the mention of his father. He'd known and accepted his fate as he was returning home, that an encounter with his father was inevitable at this point, but that didn't mean any mention of the Butcher didn't strike paralyzing fear through his veins.

Lola shook him roughly. "Well?" she asked in a sickeningly sweet tone.

"The Ravens," Nathaniel forced out as her grip tightened. She froze, her eyes widening minutely. "The Ravens. They lured me in and c-captured me." He flicked his tail upwards, showing them the new tear in the translucent fins. "They took me." 

Lola stared at his tail, before she exchanged glances with her brother. Slowly, her grip began to loosen, leaving Nathaniel's jaw aching and bruised.

"So you know," she said.

Nathaniel blinked as he comprehended her words, and as soon as he did, a familiar, muted anger flashed through his gut. Yes, he knew about the secrets his father and his inner circle were keeping from him. Yes, he knew that they were nothing more than pawns for the Moriyamas. Yes, he knew the ropes that tied their hands together and kept them chained, despite their supposed freedom with the seas.

But he forced the bitter words down, only nodding and keeping his eyes trained on the water below them.

Lola remained silent for only a moment longer before she snapped, "Your father is waiting," and swam off.

Nathaniel forced himself to follow her, despite the ice coating his insides and the sick pounding of his heart. Romero and Jackson stayed behind him while Lorraine swam by his side, probably ensuring he wasn't trying to "run off" again.

Nathan's castle was more of a series of magnificent underwater caves, lit only by the sunlight that penetrated the waters. The merfolk remaining at the entrance cast one look at them before looking away, like they were shielding their eyes from something terrible. Nathaniel followed Lola into the caves, ignoring the sudden, urgent need to just dart off, to just escape like his mother had tried to. The walls were familiar and horrible, dark and all-encompassing, eerie and regal at the same time.

Finally they arrived at Nathan's room. Nathaniel caught sight of his father's blood-red tail flickering in the corner of his eyes, and squeezed them shut briefly, like pretending he couldn't see his father there would make him disappear. 

But then Lola's soft voice spoke, hissing in another language, the language of the old seas, and Nathaniel felt his father's shadow descend over him.

Nathan's voice, drawling and lopsided, sounded. 

"Hello, Junior," he said, running his fingers through Nathaniel's hair, before tightening them in an excruciating grip. "Look at me when I speak to you. I said hello." 

Nathaniel forced his eyes open and met his father's gaze, the icy blue eyes that were emptier than bottom of the sea. "Hello," he croaked.

"I heard you had a little excursion," Nathan said coldly. His grip was painful enough that tears sprang to Nathaniel's eyes. "Is that true?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tell me what happened. Carefully." Nathan tilted his head to the side, and Nathaniel could see the faint yellow glow of his father's true eyes in the darkness.

Panic threatened to seize him, but Nathaniel forced it down. He remembered everything and everyone that was riding on his shoulders: the Foxes, _Andrew_ , and now Jean. He remembered the reason he went to Evermore in the first place: to protect the people he - for some godforsaken reason - cared about.

He couldn't possibly tell his father the real reason he willingly went with the Ravens, for it would only endanger the Foxes even further, so he spun a story that was close enough.

He said, careful to keep his voice from shaking (Nathan would hit him if it trembled too much), "I was swimming along the boundaries. It was at midnight, so it was hard to see. I saw their torches and thought they were perhaps newcomers, so I tried to attack them."

Lola approached them, her yellow eyes flashing in the darkness. Nathaniel shoved away the sudden swell of fear, since his father's claws dug into his scalp when his voice died away.

"Keep going, Junior," he crooned.

"I-I didn't know they were Ravens. I didn't know what we were to them - until now." Nathaniel barely managed to hold back his flinch when his father began to trace his new scars with his claws. "He - Riko - punished me for trying to take him down."

"Riko, you say." Nathan pressed down harder, and his claws pierced through Nathaniel's skin. Thin trails of blood floated into the water, and Nathaniel could barely breathe. "Why did he keep you for two weeks, Junior?"

"I don't know." 

It wasn't the right answer, for his father's eyes finally flashed yellow. He lifted his hand and raked it across Nathaniel's face, and instantly pain seared across his right cheek. Blood clouded his vision, and he bit through his lip to prevent a hiss from escaping him.

Nathan took Nathaniel's hand away from his face and forced his eyes up. He gripped Nathaniel's cheek where the new slashes were, squeezing. "I don't believe you," he said lowly, as Nathaniel's stomach threatened to overturn from the throbbing in his face. "What did you do?"

When Nathaniel didn't answer - _couldn't_ answer - Nathan tore through him again, this time raking his claws across Nathaniel's tail. Agony seared through his body, blood thickly blemishing the water. Light flickered off the scales that Nathan tore cleanly off, reflecting off of them as they floated through the water.

He did make a noise this time, a wounded yell that curved Nathan's lips upward in a cruel, bloodthirsty smile. Nathaniel caught a glimpse of the real Butcher as he descended upon him, but he couldn't move away. 

"How do I know you didn't try to escape like that _bitch_?" he hissed. 

"I wouldn't - not again," Nathaniel gasped out. "H-He needed to make sure I remembered the lesson. He knew I was young and I wouldn't understand. He had to show me h-his power. Put me in my place." 

Nathan slowly dragged his claws across Nathaniel's open wounds, and it took everything in him not to make any noise from the pain. Eventually his father stopped staring at him and turned to Lola. 

"I believe him," he said. 

Lola's tongue flicked out between her teeth, fangs outstretched. "But has he learned his lesson?" 

Nathan glanced down at Nathaniel. "I won't waste any more time with him. It seems that there are more urgent matters to be taken care of." What those urgent matters were, Nathaniel didn't know. He could see the fathomless pools of anger in Nathan's eyes, fury that he was sure was partially directed at him, but also towards - something else. Pain made his mind hazy, and he couldn't think. 

"Can I?" Lola asked delightedly.

"Keep him in one piece," was all Nathan said, before drifting out of the cave. Lola descended upon Nathaniel, her claws out and jaw agape.

By the end of it all, there were numerous new slashes in Nathaniel's tail that were sure to scar. His entire body ached and throbbed, and while his wounds were already beginning to heal, that didn't take away the searing pain whenever he moved. 

Nathaniel breathed and tasted blood.

Crimson scales drifted to the bottom of the cave floor like petals in the wind. It was an oddly beautiful sight, the way the light glinted off the scales as they floated away. Or maybe that was the blood loss making him delirious.

Nathaniel held a handful of them close to his chest in the aftermath. He sank to the floor among his own scales, silence ringing around him, while exhaustion was merciful and finally pulled his eyes shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things get better from here!!! don't worry !! i know there wasn't any nathaniel/andrew interactions in here, but i wanted to keep focusing on andrew's recovery for a bit and the foxes. the REUNION is NEXT CHAPTER!! look forward to that. 
> 
> (this was the substitute for the baltimore scene, just think of it like that)
> 
> ((prays there are no typos cuz i didnt edit lolol))


	19. i see dead people in boats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> andrew and nathaniel reunite.
> 
> (chapter title comes from the score 'i see dead people in boats' from the pirates of the caribbean soundtrack by hans zimmer)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: andrew's past + dealing with drake, discussion (not explicit) about tilda's abuse - first section of chapter is a lot of introspection/insight - as well as mentions of gore/violence during nathaniel's pov in the chapter
> 
> this was Long and Unedited but they finally get reunited and feelings are felt. so here ya go fam
> 
> (i just finished reading 'the wasteland' by t.s. eliot so pardon the numerous metaphors/imagery that i took from it. it's so gooood)

Days passed to no avail, days which turned into weeks. The Foxes sailed on through fog and rain, the deck slick with clinging mist and newfound solidarity. They followed Nathaniel's directions and headed up north, following faint memories of north stars and cartography to navigate among the jagged cliff sides.

He filled his time either standing at the helm, dueling with Renee, or standing at the edge of the plank, gazing out into the rolling sea underneath a starless sky, watching out for a flash of crimson in the darkness. The only source of light was the orange glow of his pipe during those nights.

Andrew was trapped underneath the heavy breath of winter. But sooner or later, he knew spring would have to break through his overcast skies. Hyacinths, gentle purple and pink of the sunrise, would bloom between his wasteland lungs and ribs - and Andrew would certainly rise up from this.

That didn't mean this was any less difficult.

It was the night of the full moon that the Foxes finally stopped at another empty dock. They'd sailed quite slowly the past few days, navigating unknown waters without the aid of a certain merman who had gone eerily quiet. There was no sign of life among the cliffs, but Andrew supposed that they'd only explored half of it. There was an entire other side to consider, and their supplies would last them for a long while. But the Foxes knew better than to get their hopes up. 

Slipping his sword into its sheath, Andrew left their sleeping quarters and headed onto the main deck. The moon lit the ship and its surroundings in a silver glow, lightly enough for Andrew to peer through the darkness.

The dock they'd stopped at was built all the way into the shallows. The Foxes had stopped by the stretch of beach by the cliff sides, jagged with dry rocks and nothingness. Andrew could make out a series of caves and tunnels going through the cliffs - eroded after millennia of crashing waves. Listlessly, he made the mental note to explore them with Renee once the sun came up. 

He kicked out the plank and sat down on the edge, laying his sword across his lap. The waters were empty and motionless save for the occasional bob of a passing wave. Andrew closed his eyes for a moment, ignoring the biting cold.

In the silence of midnight, his restless thoughts rang like gunshots. Drake's hands and voice were distant memories now, but they lurked in the back of his mind, always. Andrew repeated to himself, constantly after he woke up from his nightmares: _he's dead, he's dead, he's dead_. _Renee killed him - he's dead._

There was a certain sick kind of relief that came with that knowledge, chased by the knowing weariness of yet another uphill battle to crawl up from rock bottom. His abuser was gone, never to come back - and all Andrew had left to do was to overcome.

He was used to this battle - painfully so. This was something he knew he was capable of doing, that he knew took time. It was a cycle he'd never bothered mapping. He was a navigator, after all, not a cartographer. He could go through the motions of things, and he'd break every once in a while, but he knew how to pick up his pieces and throw them in the face of whoever thought they could shatter him forever.

(People called him a monster, but they never called him weak).

But Drake was only one issue. Andrew's fracturing family was another thing altogether, something he didn't know how to deal with. He'd been abandoned by his wench of a mother and had never known his absentee father, but that didn't make them his _family._

No, his blood family consisted of only Aaron and Nicky now, one of which couldn't even make himself look Andrew in the goddamn eye.

Andrew worked this way: he solved his problems with his own promises, regardless of how much they cost him.

One dilemma: _Tilda Minyard would hit and beat her own son without remorse._

Andrew's promise: _do whatever he needed to protect Aaron._

The second dilemma: _mere protection wasn't enough; cowards were wild animals, and Tilda was every inch desperate and cowardice._

Andrew's promise: _remove Tilda so she couldn't lay a hand on Aaron anymore._

The third dilemma: _Drake Spear was a sick monster who wanted both Andrew and Aaron - maybe even Nicky - in his bed._

Andrew's promise: _give Drake what he wanted (himself) so Aaron and Nicky were safe._

It didn't matter if Andrew's promises broke him as much as Drake's hands could. It didn't matter if his promises blinded him in the process of keeping them.

Because Andrew knew - he _knew_ \- that he would burn the entire world and himself for the few he bothered to give a damn about. Why Aaron just couldn't understand this was beyond him.

(Renee's voice echoed through his head: _you can't keep giving yourself away, Andrew. You've spread yourself thin_ ).

But it was the only way Andrew knew how to live, wasn't it?

He sat there until sunrise, staring into space as the rest of the crew began to wake up. Footsteps sounded on the deck, and Andrew turned around to see his brother emerge from downstairs. For a moment their eyes caught, before Aaron looked away. A few seconds later, Katelyn emerged behind him, her hair still ruffled from sleep as she murmured something to Aaron before heading upstairs. 

Andrew looked away, clenching his fist around his sword. 

It wasn't his fault that Aaron would never understand him. But he still had his promise to his brother to protect him, and Andrew wasn't intending on breaking anything else.

He stood as Renee came out, a warm smile crossing her face when she spotted him. 

"Andrew. Were you here all night?" she asked once she approached him, glancing at the sword in his hand. 

"Tell Wymack we're going on a walk." Andrew stalked off without offering any other explanations, but Renee took his words with stride as she turned to find their coach. He descended the plank leading to the beach, only stopping for a few moments to wait for Renee to catch up.

"Anything in particular you want to look for today?" Renee asked. "Coach wants us to be back by noon so we can debrief again, once we have a look around."

Andrew paused, slowly sheathing his sword again. He looked around at the beach before them, at the colorless waters, before coming to a decision.

"Nathaniel," he said quietly. "We will look for Nathaniel."

Renee didn't say anything else, only nodding and glancing at her compass. "Okay. That's - "

"I promised that I would find him."

Promises, promises, promises.

(For once, Andrew lost track of how much time it had been since he last saw those haunting blue eyes. Anger flickered dimly in his chest at the realization).

Renee stared at him, her compass still spinning as it struggled to find north. A small smile flickered across her face as she said, "Alright. Then we will find him."

Andrew watched as the other Foxes descended the ship, landing on top of the wet sand. Jeremy led Kevin, Dan, and surprisingly Allison in the opposite direction, only stopping to look over his shoulder and wave at Andrew and Renee when he spotted them. 

"Shall we head south, then?" Renee asked, drawing Andrew from his thoughts. He remained quiet, lifting his sword and gesturing for her to lead the way. Renee grinned this time - she refused to treat him like a fragile thing - and together they headed for the tunnels and caves.

\-- 

No one took something of the Butcher's and got away with it.

The wounds he left on Nathaniel eventually turned into thick, whitened scars. They slashed across his previously unmarred tail, marking scores of silver through crimson. 

The night after his punishment, Nathan disappeared again, along with Lola and Romero. Nathaniel had been too weak to bother finding out why, only focusing on healing first, enough that he could actually swim. He'd taken a handful of his scales, keeping them close to his heart - they were worth a fortune on the market, but they were _his_.

He only discovered the reason behind Nathan and his lackeys' disappearances two days later, when they returned with the corpse of two sailors in their clawed hands. In the murky water, their eyes glowed a rotten yellow, flashing like dying embers in the sea.

Blood trailed from the sailors' mangled bodies as they let them sink to the sea floor. Nathaniel was close enough to recognize the raven tattoo on both of their arms.

For a fleeting, terrifying moment, Nathaniel thought he was staring at the corpse of Jean Moreau. But he couldn't see any traces of a '3' on either of their cheekbones, so he assumed his father hadn't gotten to his friend.

He managed to keep his nauseous expression at bay as his father noticed him, the last traces of yellow finally fading from his eyes, leaving behind cold, glacial irises. Nathaniel stayed still, averting his gaze from the dead body, while Nathan swam toward him and reached out, grabbing his chin and yanking him close.

"This?" he hissed, gesturing to the mangled sailors. Lola hovered over the body, fangs and claws still out, as the others began to close in. "This is a warning."

Nathaniel managed to ask, "For whom?"

His father's grip tightened, before he released Nathaniel. "No one takes anything of mine without consequence," he snarled, before whipping around and lashing out. Nathaniel forced himself not to flinch as he watched his father tear one of the sailor's arms clean off, sending clouds of blood rising through the water. That was everyone else's cue to begin ravaging what was left of them.

Nathaniel managed to slip away in the chaos, darting away in the direction of his caves. Stomach tight with nausea and head spinning, he only stopped swimming when he was so far down the tunnels that he couldn't hear a thing besides his own pounding heartbeat.

He emerged for a moment, staring up at the watery ceiling. The silence of the caves, usually so comforting, was eerie. All Nathaniel kept hearing was the crunch of bone snapping and his father's gravelly voice hissing in his ear.

He'd somehow survived the storm of Nathan's wrath, but Nathaniel knew things could never be that easy. His life had always been a series of exchanges: one hell for another, one death for another.

In the sickening midst of fear and blood, Nathaniel found himself returning to the Foxes. Human affairs were never the Wesninskis' forte, but Nathaniel couldn't help but yearn to return to them. To Andrew.

_I will find you._

It was a promise not easily kept, but Nathaniel had seen the conviction in Andrew's deadened eyes. He knew the sailor took his promises very seriously, and would throw himself off the edge of the world if it meant keeping them. A fresh wave of nausea threatened to swamp Nathaniel at the thought, the realization that Andrew held his own life in lesser regard than anything else. 

Sinking to the bottom of the cave floor, Nathaniel idly watched the reflections ripple across the rock, dancing across the new ridges of scars on his tail. 

Without a doubt, there would be consequences for his father's actions. Riko had taken Nathaniel, an untouchable Wesninski, but in return, Nathan had taken two of Riko's sailors. If what Riko told Nathaniel was true - and he believed it was - there was no way his father could get away from his actions. 

(He came from a monster family, yes, but they were monsters with chains around their throats and wrists. A dog that bit the master's hand had to be killed).

All Nathaniel could do was hope - something he'd never been able to believe in - that Riko wouldn't touch the Foxes or Jean. He understood little about the Moriyamas and their syndicate, but Jean had told him during a few of their less bloody nights about the issues Riko faced within his own family. Riko was part of a second branch in their syndicate, and there was another ship belonging to the main branch, the _Raven King._ It was manned by Riko's absentee father Kengo and his older brother, Ichirou Moriyama. 

Nathaniel's memory was hazy after that, but the names stuck with him. Jean's tone told him enough of the story: if things got too messy, the main branch would intervene - and then things would hit rock bottom.

In that moment, it felt as if the entire ocean and its bones was crushing Nathaniel's shoulders.

But if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was to survive. And he would keep going, because there were people now counting on _his_ promises, and Nathaniel refused to break them. 

He didn't have a choice about what his name was - he was a Wesninski. But it was all he could do to not be his father.

\-- 

Andrew lost track of how long he searched the tunnels and caves, all the nooks and crannies in each one. The sun beat down on his and Renee's shoulders as they wandered down the seemingly endless stretch of beach, their boots digging into the wet sand and betraying their footsteps.

"Where else could he be." Andrew's voice was hoarse as he spoke for the first time in hours. He didn't know why his hands were suddenly shaking, so he gripped the hilt of his sword tightly. 

Renee's voice was gentle as she said, "It's not over yet, Andrew. We can come back tomorrow. We still haven't explored half this area yet."

"I promised I would find him." Turning away from where he was staring at the listless waves, Andrew noticed the way Renee's expression broke slightly. It was only a momentary shattering, before she regained her composure like nothing happened at all. It was convincing enough that Andrew almost believed he'd hallucinated it - 

Almost.

"I understand," she said. "How about we come back at sundown?"

"Do not start taking pity on me now, Renee." Andrew didn't mean for his words to come out as a snarl, but as always, he lost his control at the worst times. 

Renee blinked - his outburst was the first time he'd even expressed any emotion in the wake of breaking down inside Abby's cabin. Andrew looked away in case he did something else stupid, like attack her or hurt her even more - but Renee's next words tugged at his attention again.

"I am not taking pity on you," she said, an edge to her voice. "I know how much your promises mean to you, Andrew, and - " She cut herself off, like she wanted to say more, but knew Andrew wouldn't like to hear it. After a short moment, she continued, "You can't keep pushing yourself, not this soon. Nathaniel's smart. He still has the upper hand because he knows this place much better than we do. You have to trust that he will try to find you as well.

"There has to be a reason why he hasn't reached out for so long," she continued. "If he knows it's too much of a risk, he won't do anything. That's part of his nature. We just have to trust him on this. For now, all we can do is hope."

Andrew couldn't help but scoff. "Hope, and do what? Pray to your God?"

"If you want." Renee touched a hand to her necklace, absently rubbing the wooden cross. "It's not my place to ask you for your faith, Andrew, not after what it cost you, but just know that we have your backs as well."

The tightness in his chest returned, and Andrew tore his gaze away from Renee's. The feeling subsided after a few long, arduous minutes - but it was like the ocean, coming and going, crashing into him at the worst times, wearing him down.

"We should go back," he muttered once he finally could breathe again. He shouldered past Renee, but was careful not to bump into her. She strode after him, respectfully quiet, as they followed their footprints back to the ship.

Wymack made them each present their findings, before agreeing to let them dock there for a few days while they gathered their bearings. He dismissed them all except for his new set of navigators: Andrew, Renee, Kevin, Jeremy, and Simon. 

"What's the deal?" he asked. "Any signs of life? Keep heading north?"

Andrew's skin crawled when he felt Kevin and Jeremy's eyes on him. He resisted the desire to toy with the cloth covering his forearms as he replied, "North seems like the safest answer."

Wymack's eyes softened only a fraction. "Nothing from Nathaniel?"

"It's been two weeks," Kevin oh-so-helpfully offered. 

"He should be okay, right?" Jeremy asked when Andrew didn't answer. The Trojans had been informed of Nathaniel and everything about him, at least whatever secrets he'd indulged them in. 

Wymack's expression was pensive, and he glanced back at Andrew. "He will survive," he said slowly, before uncrossing his arms and grabbing his flask. "It's getting dark. Any searches and explorations will resume tomorrow. I don't want any of you going out now. That means you too, Minyard," he added with an edge to his voice when Andrew started to move out of his seat. When Andrew stilled, Wymack nodded to himself, making a shooing motion toward the door. "Get out of here."

Andrew followed Renee out of the cabin, numb fingers tapping the hilts of his knives. Behind him he could hear Jeremy faintly conversing with Kevin, something about his old home back at the St. Trojan Court, and how he missed the simple trades he and his crew made there. To Andrew's bored surprise, Kevin responded with a story of his own, a more golden moment out of the few there were in his childhood that he spent first learning how to sail in a dinghy.

Jeremy's laugh rang out down the corridor, and Andrew wished he would just shut up.

He and Renee split up at the sleeping quarters. She cast him an indiscernible look, before smiling softly. "Are you going to sleep?" she asked.

"Later," Andrew replied without looking at her.

"Okay. Good night, Andrew." She held no traces of bitterness in her voice as she retreated inside. Feeling oddly rotten inside, Andrew ascended the stairs and headed up to the helm. 

He spotted Nicky at the wheel, whose eyes lit up almost comically when he spotted Andrew.

"Good grief, hanging here is so boring," he said as Andrew passed by him without a word. "I don't understand how you do it."

"We aren't moving, Nicky," Andrew muttered, dignifying his cousin in a response after days of silence. He pretended not to notice the glimmer of newborn hope in Nicky's eyes. "Of course you would be bored."

"I don't know why Wymack put me here," Nicky complained, tracing his fingers around one of the pegs. "At least Matt will be coming soon."

Andrew reached the very end of the helm, leaning against the cold wooden railing with both elbows. The sun was gone already, leaving behind faint bursts of light overshadowed by thick violet clouds. 

If he was a different person, if he was in a different situation, Andrew would've said it was pretty.

But no, the violets were the bruises left on his skin by previous monsters, the red was the blood spilling from Drake's throat, and the faint gold was the color of Nathaniel's skin.

He unlatched a knife from his hip, lifting it up to the dim light. The colors were reflected in the blade, still sharp and glossy from its last cleaning. Andrew tilted it at just the right angle so the last glints of sunlight bounded off the thin edge.

Nicky wasn't looking when Andrew hurled the stupid knife into the sea as far as he could.

\-- 

Nathaniel was retracing his pathways when he noticed the blade resting upon the cliff side rocks. 

A flicker of something burned quietly inside his chest as he picked it up. Holding it close to his chest, he swam forward with fervor and trepidation.

\-- 

It was the next evening that Andrew thought he heard movement in the tunnels - that wasn't wind.

He wasn't with Renee this time, leaving her behind with Allison and slipping away quietly, unnoticed. He didn't stray too far from the ship, retracing his steps through the now-familiar tunnels. There was that eerie silence that preceded the breaking of a storm, and Andrew couldn't help but glance around. 

He swore he could hear the crunch of footsteps. But it was so quiet.

Accelerating his pace, Andrew kept one hand on his knife - he felt strangely unbalanced with one missing - as he scanned his surroundings. He eventually find himself in an oasis of sorts, stuck behind large juts of rock, shielded from the Caribbean sun. He could still smell the sea, stuck in tide pools and other crags.

He didn't know how long it was until he heard that sound again. The light footsteps, treading on the world, so carefully. His knife was halfway out of its sheath when a terribly familiar voice finally rose from the silence -

"Andrew?"

No, he wasn't hallucinating. He couldn't be hallucinating.

Andrew whirled around to see Nathaniel standing in the shade of the tunnels, except - 

He didn't look quite the same.

The first thing Andrew registered was the new array of scars marring Nathaniel's face. They looked like claw marks, slashing down the entire right side of his face, cutting away part of his brow but somehow leaving his eye undamaged. He stood like the mere act of staying upright exhausting him, shifting from left to right but unable to favor one leg over the other.

And - 

Oh, he was _angry._ It consumed his entire body like wildfire, ravaging him - of course the first thing he felt since _Drake_ was this blinding fury, and of _course_ it was because of Nathaniel. Andrew didn't even remember walking toward Nathaniel until he blinked and they were only a few inches apart.

His hands shook, but he clenched them, hard enough that his blunt nails left indents in his palms. 

"What the _hell_ did you do?" he asked, rage straining his voice, stretching it at its seams. 

Nathaniel blinked slowly, his blue eyes dark whirlpools of things Andrew didn't recognize. He met Andrew's anger with something softer, something almost gentle - which didn't make fucking sense at all.

"I'm sorry," he breathed.

Andrew was grabbing Nathaniel by the front of the shirt and dragging him close before he could even register it - and his knuckle brushed against Nathaniel's skin and it burned him, but he was too furious to care at the moment. He didn't know what he wanted to do - maybe punch the idiot, maybe shake some sense into him - but Nathaniel just kept looking at him like he was the only good thing he'd seen in so long.

But he only managed to growl, "Who did this to you?"

The look vanished from Nathaniel's face, leaving behind an unfamiliar blankness. His Adam's apple bobbed as he struggled for an answer - odd for someone with such a sharp tongue - and Andrew forced himself to let go of Nathaniel's shirt. 

"My father," Nathaniel finally said, wincing like the words cut his mouth on the way out. "Him, and - and Riko."

The world darkened, spinning. Andrew was rarely blindsided by anything anymore - and maybe he should've expected this, with Nathaniel's aptitude for breaking rules and getting himself into trouble. But all he could hear was Riko's name, echoing through his ears, taunting him.

He'd broken his promise to protect Nathaniel. 

"Why?" Andrew gritted out, tearing his eyes away from the new scarring on Nathaniel's face.

"He was threatening the Foxes." Something flashed in Nathaniel's eyes, something eerily cold. "He was threatening you."

"You're a foolish martyr. You're a fucking idiot." Andrew turned away for a moment, breathing harshly. The rage gave way into something equally terrible - shock. 

He'd always been so intent on self-destructing that seeing the aftermath of his collateral damage threatened to overturn his stomach.

Choosing not to reply, Nathaniel only reached up to his own neck and unclasped something from around his throat. There was a sad smile on his face as he held up the object.

It was a necklace, made from rough twine and bits of rope. Andrew focused on the glittering bundle of scales hanging off the string instead, his words failing him as he took in the faint patterns of rose within the blood-red crimson. 

After a few more seconds, he managed to piece it together with his scrambling mind. The scales looked so familiar because they _were_ \- they were Nathaniel's.

There was almost a pleading tone to Nathaniel's voice. "I promise I will tell you everything later - but I want you to keep this right now. Please?"

Andrew's jaw clenched almost painfully. "Don't use that word."

"Alright. I won't." Nathaniel held the necklace toward him expectantly, and Andrew forced himself to move after a minute, accepting the gift hesitantly. 

The scales were smooth and cold in his palm, wildly different from the heady warmth of Nathaniel's skin.

He wanted to crush it in his bare hands, but he couldn't.

"You make protecting you so much harder," Andrew said instead. "How am I supposed to keep my promise if you keep running right into Riko's arms?"

Nathaniel gave him a tired smile, reaching up to touch Andrew's hand. Nathaniel's fingertips brushed against Andrew's wrist, just lightly enough to tickle.

"You spend all this time watching our backs," he said quietly. "Who's watching yours?"

Andrew stared at Nathaniel. He wasn't sure if he was more angry at Nathaniel or himself. The knowledge that Nathaniel had willingly let Riko torture him, had allowed his father to tear into him like a piece of meat, for _Andrew_ , of all people, was - _terrifying_. 

He wanted to scream at the naive merman, I'M NOT WORTH IT. DON'T YOU SEE? I DON'T DESERVE IT - 

I DON'T DESERVE _YOU_.

Everything was shaking loose within his chest, his armor cracking, his walls crumbling - he was capsizing - and falling right into Nathaniel's arms.

_The classic tale: the foolish sailor being thrown into the sea, only to be rescued by the brave merman beneath the wreckage._

Andrew wanted to take a knife and carve out everything that was alive within him - the hyacinths were growing through his ribs, _choking_ him - and hide it away six feet deep. He wanted to stop feeling, because it was so _painful_ , it was so damning, that _knowledge_ that someone was finally protecting him, after years of absolutely nothing. 

_Now the real ending: the sailor would emerge unscathed, while the merman would sink to the bottom of the sea with the weight of his sacrifices._

Nathaniel stepped close so that only a few inches of space separated them. There was a fire in his eyes that defied endings and tales old as time.

"I don't regret my choices," he said softly, taking Andrew's hand and pressing it against his own chest. There, Andrew could feel his heartbeat thudding against his palm - steady and ongoing. Nathaniel murmured, "See? I'm still here."

"But you won't stay," Andrew said lowly, avoiding Nathaniel's insistent blue glare. The words burned on their way out. "It's not your nature." 

That was only part of the reason. Nathaniel was an ethereal being, something soft and violent born from the cruel sea. Meanwhile Andrew was just a human - he was no match for Nathaniel. He couldn't possibly keep him close by the sheer force of his own will. Even if he could make Nathaniel stay, he couldn't protect him, not like he could protect Kevin, Aaron, or his family. Andrew knew he'd only succeed in hurting him even further.

(It was a battle between Andrew's own misconceptions and the earnest gleam in Nathaniel's eyes as he traced his thumb over the bone of Andrew's wrist).

He'd known this was stupid going into it, as stupid as sailing in the pitch-black midnight with not a star in sight. He'd handed Nathaniel his priceless bearings while tricking himself into thinking he had some goddamn control.

Yet despite all that, Nathaniel was one of the best things to happen to him in moons. Of course it took countless new scars on his face and body for Andrew to finally open his eyes: that there was no going back from this, that he was in too deep, that the only way forward would be to go down, down, down. A death sentence for a sailor.

(Nathaniel was different: he was brave and stupid, a monster and a martyr, a human and a universe. He could be taken away so quickly, and it was dangerous, so _dangerous_ and _foolish_ , to want him. But oh, Andrew _wanted_ Nathaniel like he wanted to survive, like he wanted to live and fight back and win - and he so rarely wanted anything at all that this just couldn't be real).

Andrew knew what it was like to have knives thrown at him, knew what it was like to be trapped under an unforgiving body, knew what it was like to bleed. Sometimes there'd be someone there to pick up the pieces; sometimes Renee would sit there if he cried, and she would keep that secret without Andrew asking.

But Nathaniel was the first to jump in the knife’s path, the first to use his own body as a shield, the first to do so without so much as breathing a word of blame in Andrew's direction.

"You're shaking." 

Nathaniel's voice drew him out of his mind, and Andrew found his hand was still on Nathaniel's chest. He grabbed a handful of Nathaniel's shirt again.

"I hate you," Andrew growled, twisting his trembling fingers in the fabric. "I hate you so fucking much."

Nathaniel's lips twitched again. Lashes fluttering, he murmured, "I missed you."

"If they didn't kill you already, I will," Andrew swore, because promising blood was easier than admitting through the thorns in his throat that - 

Maybe he'd needed Nathaniel too.

Tilting his head lower, close enough that their foreheads nearly brushed, Nathaniel whispered, "It's okay."

Andrew still couldn't breathe easily - he was still trapped underneath the toil of winter clouds - but the hyacinths were blooming through his ribs - and with a shuddering breath, he realized they smelled sweet.

They stayed there for a while, long after the sun had set, until Nathaniel finally stirred. He reached behind him and brandished a blade, the very one that Andrew had thrown into the ocean only yesterday.

"See? I knew you would find me," he said quietly, his smile brighter than the moonlight itself. "Even if you didn't know it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good stuff is gonna happen. hang in there.


	20. more than this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> andrew has another long-overdue conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: explicit discussion of drake/andrew's past, mentions of torture (nathaniel's time with the ravens)
> 
> i forced this one out so i can finally get to the next few chapters (they're quite exciting) but this is a very important step for andrew - please take care of yourselves as some explicit language is used

_To get past a problem, you have to first acknowledge that there is one._

That was what Bee said, back when Andrew had the time to visit her.

 _I can solve my own problems myself,_ Andrew had replied.

She'd smiled at him, gave him that sad look of hers. _I know you can, Andrew,_ she said. _I just wish it wasn't all you knew_.

He set down his pipe, watching the tobacco smolder inside of it, before putting it out. Andrew had been sitting by the helm for what seemed like the whole day, watching the Foxes work on new navigation plans and explorations. Wymack had put him on navigation duty, which was his way of saying "you better not do shit," considering the fact that the Foxes had been staying in the same place for a few days now.

He supposed it wasn't bad. Andrew left the ship more and more to find Nathaniel, to reacquaint himself with the merman and confront his own issues. It was almost peaceful in a way that just fell short. Things felt okay in a way Andrew knew would inevitably topple over.

Andrew wouldn't be able to rest until he knew for certain that Nathaniel was safe, and his own family was safe.

The sun was setting and the first few stars were just beginning to appear when Kevin came to him, wringing his hands and looking like he wanted to drink himself to death.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked when all Andrew did was stare at him.

They went down to the supply room, making a stop by Wymack's office to steal a few of his flasks. Andrew shut the door, uncapping his own flask while tossing another one at Kevin. He took a large swig before saying anything.

"What?"

Kevin looked like he was shivering. Andrew couldn't tell; it was too dark. But he held the flask up to his lips, hesitating and clenching his jaw.

"Andrew."

"Spit it out, Day."

"Our deal. You - you remember it, right?" 

Andrew sighed through his nose, before making his way to Kevin's side. "Yes. I remember everything."

"I - "

"Do you need me to throw knives at you again, Kevin? Are Riko's little games working, hm?"

"What? No. No! It's not - " Kevin cut himself off, green eyes wide. "It's just - "

Andrew shoved the flask against Kevin's chest, almost too hard. "Drink all of this if you have to, but stop wasting my damn time."

Ironically, Kevin's eyes flashed. "So you can keep going off with Nathaniel?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Andrew snapped. 

"There's no one else it could be, Andrew," the idiot said. Someone was feeling extra brave just then, oddly enough. "You wouldn't take that much interest in anyone else. You and your self-destructive - "

"Self-destructive?" He stepped up to Kevin, crowding him against the wall. It was ridiculous, how quickly that shut Kevin up, despite the fact that Andrew had to practically crane his neck upwards to look at him. "I don't think you know what that means."

"Then what is it?" Kevin retorted. His breath smelled like stale rum.

Andrew wrinkled his nose, before shoving against Kevin's chest. "He went to the Ravens because Riko threatened me, you know," he growled through gritted teeth. He could see the visible shock on Kevin's face - like a thunderstorm in the middle of summer - but he continued. "He may be the son of the Butcher but he is nothing like him. You may still have your reservations about him, but do not forget that he saved all of our asses from the very start." 

When Kevin didn't reply, Andrew pushed him harshly again, before stepping back. "If that's all you wanted to say, then thank you for wasting my fucking time." 

"It's Wymack," Kevin suddenly said, just when Andrew turned to leave. "He's - I'm scared of what - what Riko might do."

"What would Riko do to Coach?" Andrew asked lowly, glaring at the wall. He could see the knife marks he'd left on it the first time he'd taken Kevin here. 

Kevin didn't reply, but his shuddering breaths filled the silence.

Andrew turned around again. "What does Riko have on Coach?" he asked again.

"He's - " Tilting his head back so it slammed against the wall, Kevin raked his hands through his hair. Finally, after a few minutes of trying and failing to collect himself, he gritted out, "He's my father. Wymack is my father."

Oh.

Andrew tilted his head to the side, waiting until all his own surprise faded away before speaking. If Kevin had been tormented enough to bring Andrew into this, then he couldn't afford to lose his shit on him.

"And you didn't think to tell him because?"

"Because I'm fucking scared," Kevin snapped suddenly. "I'm scared he'll throw me away like - like _he_ did." 

"What makes you think Coach would do that?" Andrew asked lowly.

Kevin's expression fell. He angered in short stutters - one moment his fuse was lit, and the next it was extinguished to hell.

"I - don't know," he finally said, looking down.

"What will Riko do?" Andrew asked. 

"He - anything. He could do anything. I know he's not above hurting anyone on this goddamn ship, and I - I won't be able to live with myself, if something happened to Coach. I already - I already can't, with everything that's happened.

"He knows. I know he does. He's been holding it against me for the longest time. My mother - she wrote a letter to me, before she died. She told me everything. I never got it until it was too late, but I gave it to Jean for safekeeping. He must know by now. He might do something to Wymack, if - "

Andrew stepped close to Kevin again, though this time he kept his arms crossed over his chest. "Tell me one time Wymack has ever turned anyone away," he said quietly.

Kevin blinked owlishly at the sudden change in subject. "I - " he paused, like he was thinking. "I can't."

"Tell me one time Wymack has ever thrown anyone off this ship. Even Seth." 

He winced this time. "He hasn't."

"Then _tell_ Coach." Andrew glared at Kevin harshly. "Tell him, and tell him what Riko might do. You won't let him be blindsided."

Kevin stared back at him for the longest time. Something flickered in his expression - and Andrew thought he could see someone different behind the pained mask, behind the starkly tattooed '2'. 

Someone braver.

"Okay," he finally whispered, barely anything louder than a breath. "Okay."

Andrew waited until his breathing steadied, before stepping back. "Do what you need to do," he said.

Kevin gazed at him for another long minute, before nodding and handing Andrew his flask. Andrew thought he heard him say _thank you_ , but Kevin was gone too fast. 

He stood in the wake of chaos. Andrew stared blankly at the wall, before coming to however long later, scoffing. Then he took the rest of the flasks and drained them each.

\-- 

Andrew didn't get drunk easily - but tonight he did.

He supposed he was lucky only Renee saw him. The moment she did, she'd taken him into Abby's office and practically barricaded the both of them inside.

"What is this about?" she asked once she'd almost manhandled Andrew onto the bed, standing at the door like she was afraid someone would walk in. Andrew shrugged. 

He wasn't much different when he was drunk than when he was sober. Perhaps he was more destructive. More reckless.

"Nothing," he said, enunciating the syllables. "Nothing, Christian girl."

She raised her eyebrows. Andrew rarely called her that anymore. "I'll wait," she finally said, pulling up a chair and sitting across from him. A sly smile crossed her face when she added, "I wouldn't let loose a drunk Andrew Minyard on anyone else, after all."

He hummed and let her sit and watch him. 

He didn't know why everything felt so jumbled and messy just then. It always had been chaotic, being Andrew and all. But it was as if everything had been building and building up, starting from the moment Drake Spear reappeared, to the moment Nathaniel came back, and now to the moment Kevin made his "sinful" confession.

But his chest itched horribly - maybe the hyacinths were wilting (but they'd just started growing) - with unsaid things. It was so terrible Andrew wanted to claw apart his own ribs.

Maybe it was all the liquor he drank that was loosening his lips. And maybe it was that Andrew was tired of hoarding his own secrets, like Kevin, or like Nathaniel were. 

Maybe he was just so fucking exhausted of everything that he wanted to rearrange his bones into something goddamn _better_.

"Renee," he started, breathing deeply. She perked up, though her expression smoothed out when she noticed his face. 

"Yes, Andrew?" She shifted closer to him, moving Abby's chair so that she could sit across from him. "What is it?"

Andrew glanced down at his own hands, where they were clenched so hard that he nearly drew blood. He forced himself to unlock his joints, his fingers shaking as soon as he did so. His heart was starting to pound again, dizzying - but maybe that was the alcohol as well.

He knew if he started he wouldn't be able to stop. Years of pent-up anger, boarded-down pain, _blood_ stood on the tipping point of being spilled. He couldn't just say one thing and then let it go.

Bee's voice. 

_You can talk, Andrew. I will listen to you._

So he did.

"That man. Drake," he said. "The one you killed."

Her eyes darkened almost immediately. Andrew thought he could see the exact moment the heathen inside of her came out to play. "Yes. I remember. Andrew - "

"He had these fantasies," he said, looking anywhere but at Renee's face, because he couldn't stand her expression anymore. "He wanted both Aaron and me in his bed. He kept telling me about what he wanted to do to us. Everything - everything was fucked up. Maybe he was going to drag Nicky into the mess too. I knew that sooner or later he would start acting on his words, but we couldn't just leave and run. We were in the middle of the goddamn sea, and he'd technically saved us from just being another homeless trio on the streets."

His stomach churned, nausea threatening to overturn it. Unsheathing his knife, he ran it along his knuckles, not deep enough to cut, but hard enough that it left behind a pale line of ragged skin.

"So I went into his cabin one night. I told him that he could have me, that he could do whatever he wanted to me, as long as he didn't touch Aaron or Nicky. He gave me his word, and I gave him mine." Suddenly, he stuck his knife into the bed. He imagined it was Drake's rotten heart. Renee shifted, her blank expression betraying nothing. Andrew imagined she'd put two-and-two together by now, but he didn't risk stopping.

"I let him rape me. Repetitively. Almost every night," he said bitterly. "He enjoyed it, the bastard. I started cutting myself to gain some semblance of control back. It was never bad enough to kill me, though I thought about it. But I had Aaron and Nicky to think about as well. Our deal only ended when I got away from him, when Wymack came and raided the ship."

And suddenly everything went dry, and Andrew had run out of words. If he said anything more he thought his throat would start bleeding, and he'd start screaming. 

So he shut up and finally looked up at Renee.

Her eyes were shadowed with a darkness Andrew didn't know she possessed, not even when he'd learned about her past. Her lips twisted in the beginnings of a snarl. 

"I should have made it last longer," she finally said.

Oh, how they both wished.

"Some divine justice, hm?" Andrew looked away and straightened out his legs, his knees aching from being locked up for so long. He hadn't realized how tense he'd become until he took a deep breath, and his chest hurt.

Renee's expression broke just slightly. She leaned forward, gazing at him intently. "Andrew, you know you're more than your promises, right?"

He shut his eyes. "Renee," he said tightly.

"No. Andrew, I need to know that you understand this," she said. She looked strangely mournful. "He's dead, and if I could raise him from the dead and kill him again - _slowly_ this time - I would. But he's gone and I need you to - " 

"Would your God allow that, Renee?" Andrew interrupted, rubbing his temples. His head hurt. "You may just go to hell for that."

"You aren't what they make you to be," she said again, a strange, watery gleam in her eyes. "I'm sure Nathaniel can tell you this, too."

"Renee."

"You are _more_ than your promises, Andrew," she said, almost pleadingly. "It's over now. You are worth protecting and goodness, just like the rest of us. You don't need to keep giving yourself away the only way you know how."

She smiled, leaning forward and tentatively touching Andrew's hand. She squeezed it when he didn't yank it away.

"You're going to be okay, Andrew," she said softly. "You don't need to keep giving yourself up anymore. Alright?"

He stared at her, unable to speak. It felt like something was fucking choking him, but Renee only smiled in that infuriatingly understanding way of hers.

"Can I touch you?" she asked gently.

Andrew shut his eyes, breathing in and out deeply. He assessed himself. He was still drunk, his chest still hurt, but he'd said all that he'd needed to say. 

And that alone - for some reason - felt so freeing.

So he nodded, opening his eyes and watching as Renee stood up and leaned down, cradling his face and kissing him chastely on the forehead. Her necklace dangled in front of Andrew, bumping into his nose.

"Thank you," she whispered once she pulled away. "Are you going to sleep?" 

Andrew shook his head. "Not tonight."

Renee smiled one more time. "That's okay too."

\-- 

There was blood in the water.

Nathaniel knew that things weren't safe. They never were to begin with, but now, it was almost as if he could smell the war brewing. The two Raven sailors his father had killed were nothing but bones now. But Nathaniel had spent two weeks with Riko Moriyama - and he knew the man could never let his subordinates take one of his own crew, no matter how much he hated his fellow sailors.

His father held Nathaniel in a lax grip now, as if he was no longer his father's greatest problem anymore. Nathaniel would always be a disappointing shadow of the Butcher, a monster in his own right, but Nathan had started a war, and they were waiting for the Ravens' next move.

Nathaniel could slip away, navigating the various reefs and cliffs by memory. His father would be too preoccupied defending his own empire after what he'd done to get back at Riko; Nathaniel was safe under the distraction of war, for now.

He nearly scoffed at the thought of that.

Nathaniel could visit Andrew more often now, throughout the next few days. He thought that the Foxes had figured out he was back - to his relief, they didn't question where he'd gone in the first place. He swam through the channels leading into great underwater caves and pools and gazed at the sky, and sometimes when it turned a brilliant shade of red and gold, he'd wonder instead how it felt to fly, rather than swim.

So far Nathaniel hadn't tried to set foot back on land. He still had the sword and knife Andrew had gifted him what seemed like eons ago, which he kept within the cave pool closest to the ship. He knew he would have to overcome his inhibitions sooner or later, get over Riko's punishments and defy the bastard by willingly going back on land - but he wasn't sure when he would be ready.

He didn't want to see the new scars his father had put on his legs, either.

Nathaniel led Andrew to the pool, watching the young pirate's face flicker underneath the silvery ripples of the water. He rested his elbows on the cold stone and leaned his cheek against his wrist as Andrew sat down, legs crossed so they didn't go in the water. He seemed more relaxed than Nathaniel had ever seen him before, his shoulders sloped in an elegant line, his face serenely blank. The reflections of the pool turned Andrew's hazel eyes into this peculiar shade of dark gold. 

He was beautiful, Nathaniel realized belatedly. He was human, and he was beautiful.

Andrew caught his eyes after a few silent minutes, his jaw twitching. "Staring."

Nathaniel was smiling before he even knew it. For some reason things felt like they had settled, even though Nathaniel knew better. He shouldn't have felt so peaceful right then, watching Andrew mindlessly trace his fingertip across the surface of the water, half-lit by the sunlight filtering through the hole on the top of the cliff. He shouldn't have felt so peaceful just _being_ there with Andrew, because this felt so wrong - but the most brutal storm had passed, and all that was left was the ghost of rain and petrichor, he supposed.

Flowers bloomed from dead land, after all.

"Don't look at me like that," Andrew muttered. 

"Like what?" 

"Like I'm your answer." Unsheathing his knife, Andrew held it up to the light, turning it to and fro. 

Ever since they'd been reunited, something had changed. Nathaniel couldn't pinpoint what it was. Something had broken between them - but not in the damaging way. He actually felt closer to Andrew than ever. Maybe it was because they'd been so close to losing each other.

Whatever it was, Nathaniel didn't want to ruin it. So he just played along.

"I was just looking at you," he said.

"You're not mine." Andrew's voice was low and quiet, almost like he hadn't meant for Nathaniel to hear. It settled between them, a dangerous and heavy secret, and Nathaniel allowed himself to drift in the water for a bit.

"How are the Foxes?" he decided to ask. He didn't know where they stood in their truth game anymore, but as long as Andrew kept answering and asking, Nathaniel would keep playing.

"They're dealing with things. That's what we always do as Foxes," Andrew replied. He paused for a moment, before adding as an afterthought, "I told Kevin you'd gone to the Ravens."

"And?"

"And naturally, he panicked." Andrew shrugged. "But this isn't about Kevin. When will you tell me exactly what happened?"

The cave seemed darker.

Nathaniel straightened up, reaching out toward Andrew's hand where it was splayed out against the stone. His sigh echoed through the now-silent cave, the only sound being the occasional water droplet falling from the top. Andrew didn't move, only gazed at him almost gently.

Trusting Andrew was like muscle memory, engraved into Nathaniel's skin and bones. He didn't know where it began, just that one day he'd looked at Andrew with contempt through the ropes of a net, the glass of a tank - and the next day, Andrew had somehow worked his way deep into Nathaniel's marrow, and trusting him had become second-nature.

He tentatively brushed his fingers against Andrew's, lightly enough that it could've been a ghost's touch.

"You know why I went there," Nathaniel said slowly when Andrew's fingers twitched. 

"I told you how I felt about that," he replied, his voice low and quiet. Nathaniel had to lean closer to hear him.

"So you know how I feel too." Nathaniel shrugged, though he noticed the way Andrew's eyes kept catching on his new scars. "I couldn't let Riko do anything to you."

Suddenly his eyes were storms, his expression blanker than it was before. "You don't know what he did." 

"I know enough." When Andrew didn't say anything else, Nathaniel continued, taking his hands off Andrew's and crossing his arms again. "I know that Riko has a superiority complex. I know that Riko is obsessed with Kevin for some reason. I know that he will do anything to get what he wants, and that you and your crew have been collateral damage one too many times. I know that you want to protect me and I - you're the first person in my life who's ever promised that to me. But I can't just let you keep taking the fall."

Andrew wasn't looking at him, though Nathaniel could see the way he kept clenching his jaw. Faintly, Nathaniel whispered, "You deserve to be protected too, don't you know that?"

He suspected Andrew needed things spelled out for him sometimes - not because he was oblivious or stupid, but because he'd never heard it from anyone before. He'd never been treated like that, like he wasn't something to be broken or ravaged - like he was human. 

And as much as Nathaniel suspected Andrew refused to admit it, he needed to hear it.

(And being with Andrew was the most human Nathaniel had ever felt).

A sharp inhale, and then a rough question. "What did Riko do to you?"

Nathaniel shut his eyes against the memories. They were blurred and uncertain, but he still remembered the worst of it. Breathing deeply, he sorted through everything swirling in his mind, before replying.

"He would cut me with his knife. He'd make it last as long as possible, before he made Jean fix me up again. He would stand by and watch while his uncle beat me whenever I refused to bow down to him. He would force me to stand for hours on end while staring at the sea, wouldn't let me think of jumping off or transforming." Nathaniel opened his eyes to find Andrew staring at him. That terrible blankness was gone, replaced with the quiet fury Nathaniel had become so familiar with. "He thinks that broke me. He thinks that he has the power to, but he doesn't know how. He can't."

Andrew shook his head, staring straight ahead. "Then what can?"

He gave Andrew an empty smile. "I grew up in a family of monsters, Andrew. I told you what happened to my mother. And you see what happens to me. You can't break what's already broken."

"But?" 

Nathaniel lifted his gaze to meet Andrew's. "But that means you can start putting yourself back together."

In that moment, Andrew was so hauntingly transparent, Nathaniel thought he was made out of moonlight.

The silence stretched between them for what seemed like forever. The light shifted into something darker and thicker than honey. 

Eventually, the young pirate shifted again, reanimated, blinking and swallowing harshly. 

"You're a menace, Nathaniel Wesninski," he murmured roughly. 

"Thought I was a martyr."

Andrew turned to him, that look in his eyes that said he was _seeing_ him. "And you keep proving me wrong."

Nathaniel couldn't help but smile genuinely, hiding it in his palm. "Because you hate me, right?"

"Nine times out of ten I want to kill you myself."

"Ah. That explains everything you've ever done for me," Nathaniel said, biting back a quiet laugh. Andrew looked like he was thinking of shoving Nathaniel underwater and drowning him - and he looked even angrier upon the realization that Nathaniel was a _merman_. He couldn't help but laugh out loud at the thought.

He was still broken - they both were - but they could heal. And they could grow flowers out of their own lungs and breathe in the sweetness instead of the ash, and maybe they could both make it out of this. 

After everything finally settled, however it would.

"Stop looking at me like that," Andrew said again, breaking through Nathaniel's thoughts. He scoffed and looked away, and pretended not to notice the way Andrew brushed his fingers against Nathaniel's once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter. hmmMM. i have a feeling you will like it very much.
> 
> but i hope you enjoyed this one in all seriousness! i rly wanted to address this part of andrew in this story: his obsession w his promises - this is a major part of his healing. thanks for reading <3


	21. human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they resume fighting lessons and other things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: references to andrew's past. very vague though
> 
> (this chapter is very much nathaniel's pov, the beginning is setting things up. don't worry there's plenty of andrew's pov next chapter).
> 
> previously: kevin reveals that wymack is his father to andrew because he is worried about what riko might do next in retaliation. the wesninskis are waiting for the ravens' next move especially after they took 2 raven sailors. andrew reveals his past with drake to renee, because even if it was subconscious, he's had enough of suppressing. he and nathaniel find a new meeting place in the caves and nathaniel tells him everything riko and his father did to him.

Andrew slept restlessly, but enough that he didn't feel like he was going to collapse at any moment from exhaustion. He waited until everyone else was before slipping out, grabbing his pipe and barricading himself in the supply room. He didn't have any tobacco left, but he held the pipe close anyway; it gave himself something to hold besides his knives.

He sat down against the wall, staring at the way the moonlight formed different patterns on the wooden floor as the ship bobbed with the waves. Dust motes floated through the silvery beams, drifting idly in the air. 

In the corner, Andrew could see the tank that they'd first captured Nathaniel in. There was still a large hole in the side where the merman had fallen through, the glass jagged and shattered. They hadn't bothered replacing it; it wasn't like they had a spare tank when they were stranded in the Forbidden Waters. So the tank just sat there, a reminder of when Andrew had hurt Nathaniel.

It was far before Andrew had made any promise to protect Nathaniel. He hadn't thought things would go so far between the two of them, but he knew he couldn't turn back even if he wanted to. He didn't feel regret or guilt, but he couldn't help but want to reach inside his chest and tear a piece of himself out at the thought of ever hurting the merman like that again.

(Bee had told him once that one of his best assets was that he'd do anything for his family. She'd also told him it was one of his worst downfalls too).

He knew Nathaniel had forgiven him for what he'd done, and he supposed he'd just cling onto that knowledge instead.

Andrew eventually forced himself to look away from the broken tank before his thoughts could derail any further. Instead he focused on the moonlight and tried to calculate when they'd be able to return to the Foxhole Port, and when he would be able to see Bee next. 

Oh, they'd have plenty to discuss.

Moisture still clung to the masts and sails by the time Andrew emerged from the supply room. But Andrew had to admit that he did feel slightly better after all he'd said to Renee. Drake would still haunt him, would keep haunting him for the rest of his life, but he was distant enough that Andrew finally thought he could _breathe_. 

And he had more battles to fight, more wars to win, but he'd be able to do it without his own burden weighing him down.

The Foxes were due to set sail soon; they couldn't afford to stay much longer. The Ravens were staying mysteriously quiet, with no sign of them around, as the Foxes planned their next move. Andrew would need to remember to ask Nathaniel for that during their next meeting.

He was about to head off when he heard someone call out his name.

"Andrew? Where are you going?"

He turned around to see Katelyn standing at the base of the stairs, a hesitant smile on her face. Andrew never really interacted with the new Foxes and former Trojans, only talking to them whenever it was strictly necessary. So he didn't understand why Katelyn was suddenly talking to him now. 

"Leave me alone," he said flatly, about to turn away to jump off, when he noticed movement behind her.

Aaron stepped out from behind Katelyn, a scrutinizing look on his face as he stared him down. 

"Shouldn't someone be going with you?" he asked quietly. Andrew didn't have to try very hard to hear the challenge in his brother's voice.

Beneath the regrowth in his heart, familiar anger stirred deep within his ribcage. Andrew narrowed his eyes, his lips twisting. After weeks of giving Andrew the cold shoulder, of avoiding him and casting him away like everyone else in his fucking life had done before, Aaron was finally talking to him, only to act like it was suddenly a crime to leave the ship by himself.

Andrew glared at his twin, before his gaze fell down to where Aaron and Katelyn's hands were touching. 

Oh. Oh that was funny.

Hilarious, even, to see that after everything he'd done for Aaron, after everything Aaron promised in return, he'd run off into the arms of an outsider. 

He weighed all the possible responses to Aaron, and settled on the easiest one.

"Fuck you, Aaron. I can take care of myself."

His brother blinked, while Katelyn paled. Andrew wanted to spit on the floor between their feet, but forced himself not to. Giving into his anger would erase all the painstaking progress he'd managed to make so far, and he refused to fall down to rock bottom again.

(His fingers _hurt_ from hanging on for so long).

He left the ship, ignoring Aaron's burning stare on his back.

\--

Andrew seemed different the next time Nathaniel saw him. In many ways he was still the same, expression blank and smooth as he headed toward Nathaniel. But still - he seemed almost better. Like something in him had been put back in place, like one of his bones that had been twisted out of shape had been righted and knitted back together.

He leaned up on his elbows, tilting his head to the side as the young pirate stopped in front of him.

"You seem different," he said out loud. Andrew glared at him as he dropped something to the side. 

"What?"

"Like you're breathing again." Nathaniel smiled when Andrew stared at him for a long moment, his lips flattening into a thin line.

"Staring," he finally said. 

"Mm. I know." Smiling slyly, Nathaniel flicked his tail upwards. Andrew tracked the movement, his eyes latching onto his crimson fins - and more likely, his scars. "When will you and your lot be leaving?"

"In a few days." Andrew tilted his head to the side. "Any suggestions?"

"You're out of the war zone already. All you need to go is sail for open sea now. Then I trust your navigation skills - you can find your own port from there." His heart sank slightly as he remembered that where the Foxes went, Nathaniel likely wouldn't be able to follow. He'd remain here, because he had another fight to win - this time, against the Ravens. 

It was a battle that only one side could win; and no matter how wild and monstrous the Wesninskis were, they were still chained to the Moriyamas' empire. 

He figured this, whatever it was with Andrew, was the closest to peace he'd get.

Of course, Andrew noticed his expression, and knelt down. He snapped his fingers to grab Nathaniel's attention again.

"You idiot. Do you really think we'll leave you after everything you've done for us?"

Nathaniel blinked. "You have to. It's too dangerous here, you know that."

"Wymack has a latent predilection towards saving the hopeless," Andrew said, his face twisting for just a moment. "He wouldn't let you go even if I tried to convince him."

"Maybe this is a fight bigger than all of us," Nathaniel murmured. Andrew didn't answer.

He couldn't bear the conversation anymore. Glancing down, Nathaniel suddenly noticed the two swords strapped to Andrew's sides. "What're those for?" he asked, pointing at them.

Like he'd just remembered they were there, Andrew took one of the swords off, sheath and all, and threw it toward Nathaniel. He managed to catch it before it hit him in the face. 

"Get up. I'm still going to teach you how to fight." 

"I don't have - " Nathaniel cut himself off when Andrew poked at the pile of fabric at his feet with his own sword. Ah, so those were for him. 

"You could've told me," he said as he set the sword aside. "I would've brought the other one you gave me."

"This one is probably a better fit anyways." Andrew turned around, and it took Nathaniel a moment to register that he was giving him time to transform. Ignoring the obnoxious flutter in his chest at the thought, Nathaniel concentrated on turning, and climbed out of the pool. Dressing himself in the clothes Andrew had brought for him, he purposely avoided looking down at his legs. He knew the ugly scarring of his tail would've transferred to his human skin, but he didn't need to see it to know that he probably looked hideous.

"Okay, I'm done," he announced. Andrew turned back around, eyeing him carefully, before clearing his throat. 

"You remember what I taught you before?" he asked, unsheathing his own sword and waiting for Nathaniel to do the same.

"Mirror your opponent, stay on your toes, watch your footwork," he said. "What brought this on, by the way?"

Andrew raised an eyebrow, stepping toward him. Exhilaration suddenly flared inside of Nathaniel as he registered what they were about to do. Somehow, he'd missed their fighting lessons a lot. 

"I promised I would teach you to fight for yourself, didn't I?" Andrew said lowly. 

And he did, indeed.

Nathaniel couldn't help but smile, though it didn't last long, as Andrew suddenly slashed his sword in his direction. It was thanks to Nathaniel's lightning-quick reflexes that he managed to deflect Andrew's blow in time.

"Don't be distracted," was Andrew's warning when Nathaniel stumbled back and glared at him. "You're still putting too much weight in your heels."

Oh, Nathaniel definitely had missed this.

The sun began to pass over the roof of the cave, casting dancing, watery shadows over the walls as they sparred. Nathaniel laughed breathlessly when he dodged another one of Andrew's blows, meeting every slash of his sword with his own. Their weapons clashed in the air, and Andrew gripped his wrist tightly. Then he twisted Nathaniel's arm suddenly enough that he dropped the sword. It clattered to the ground, the noise echoing through the empty cave. Andrew let him go quickly after, watching as Nathaniel shook his wrist out and bent to pick up his weapon.

"Do you want to stop?" Andrew asked quietly. Nathaniel wrapped his fingers around the handle again, gripping tightly, before turning back to the pirate with a wide grin.

"No," he breathlessly said. "Keep going."

And so they kept going. They practiced and dueled until Nathaniel's muscles ached and sweat ran down his neck from exertion. Andrew didn't go easy on him, but Nathaniel wouldn't have wanted him to anyways.

He even nearly managed to disarm Andrew once, using his own tactic against him. He feinted and was able to catch him off guard, using the time to grab Andrew's wrist and twist it down. But he was still too slow, because Andrew kneed him hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Nathaniel stepped back, coughing slightly as he tried to catch his breath.

"Nathaniel?" 

"I'm fine," he assured Andrew, shaking out his arms again. "Come on."

Eventually, after a few more rounds, Andrew slammed their swords together with enough force that Nathaniel felt the vibrations run up his arms. He stumbled backwards but pushed back, the metal blades sliding together as they caught their breaths. They were close enough that Nathaniel could feel Andrew's body heat, the way their elbows brushed and their knees nearly knocked together as Andrew backed him into the cave wall.

"Hey," Nathaniel breathed, grinning when Andrew's eyes flicked up to his face. "I didn't lose this time."

The young pirate's lips twisted in the beginnings of what looked like a snarl. "You didn't win."

"You still want to kill me?"

His eyes were pools of sun-drowned amber. "I hate you." He sounded a little broken.

Nathaniel tilted his head to the side. Suddenly, every place where Andrew was touching him felt like it was on fire, and he didn't know why. He swallowed dryly, managing to find the voice to retort, "One time out of ten, you don't."

"I always hate you. You're just sometimes interesting enough to keep around."

"Oh? Is that a compliment?"

Andrew shoved his sword-wielding arm down. He was close enough that Nathaniel could feel his stuttered breaths, that he could feel Andrew's rapid pulse beating against his own skin. 

He murmured, "Yes or no?" 

Nathaniel stared at him, unable to say anything other than, "Yes." Andrew gazed at him for a second too long, like he was trying to pick him apart, before cupping his cheek and slowly leaning in.

Andrew kissed him like he was drowning and Nathaniel's lips were air, like someone had robbed the sky of all its stars and somehow Nathaniel was the only one left. Everything was suddenly amplified - the sweet roughness of Andrew's lips, the closeness of their interlocking swords to Nathaniel's cheek, all the points where their bodies touched or even brushed. It was so much, almost too much, at once. Sluggishly, Nathaniel wondered if this was why he could lure all those sailors so easily down to the depths: with the promise of a kiss like this, blazing fire and honeyed air, at the end of the line.

When Andrew pulled away after what seemed like an eternity, all they could do was stare at each other while trying to catch their breaths. There was something definitely broken in Andrew's hazel eyes, something tender and _vulnerable._ It was a subtle kind of terror, the kind that followed when you thought the only star left in the sky was falling because of _you_ \- because you were careless and stepped too far, and now it couldn't ever be put back because _you_ knocked it down.

Something twisted painfully in Nathaniel's chest when he saw that look on Andrew's face. He dared to shift closer, moving slowly so he didn't startle him away.

"Andrew?" Nathaniel whispered. He blinked, his knuckles almost white from how tightly he was holding his sword.

"Tell me no." His voice was hoarse, uncharacteristically shaky. He was beginning to pull away completely, and Nathaniel nearly reached out to grab Andrew's wrist. He pulled back just in time, though it was enough to make Andrew freeze.

He didn't know if he could stand being apart from the pirate. Not now, not right after Nathaniel had just gotten a taste of how _good_ just _kissing_ someone could be. No ulterior motive, no bloodshed - just soft, considering touches and earthy hazel irises staring back at him. Humanity.

(Everything made sense and didn't at the same time. But he thought he could figure one thing out now: the reason he felt so... _human_ just then. The reason why he wasn't still irrevocably broken, why there was somehow a part of him that could still be _shattered_ , could still be _saved_ ).

((It was Andrew)).

But they couldn't possibly carry on with something like this. Not when Nathaniel was a Wesninski, not when he was strung between the bated breath of a war, not when he was tied between his blood family, the Foxes, and the Ravens. It would be messy, it would probably be bloody, and it would definitely not end well for either of them. Especially not for the Butcher's son.

Things never ended well when a Wesninski fell in love. But Nathaniel had begun to think that maybe there was a way out for him, and _this_ \- 

Kissing Andrew unearthed something inside of Nathaniel. Blindly, probably desperately, he latched onto it, and dared to give it a name.

_Hope._

So Nathaniel took a deep breath, because Andrew was staring at him with uncharacteristic desperation. A latent want began spreading through his chest, a type of desire he'd never felt before Andrew had touched him. He waited for the pirate's eyes to fall on where his fingers hovered over his wrist, and waited for a minute nod before letting his fingertips brush over pale skin.

"Kiss me again," Nathaniel breathed. It was enough to snap Andrew out of his stupor, to force his piercing gaze back up to Nathaniel's face. He looked haunted.

"Stop lying," he whispered harshly. 

"I'm not. I want it."

Andrew closed his eyes. "I won't let you let me be," he gritted out. "I won't be like them."

Nathaniel didn't ask who they were. He only leaned close enough that their foreheads brushed, lightly resting his fingers over Andrew's heart. 

"You aren't. I know you aren't. You're Andrew," he said softly. 

"I hate you." It was his default, broken as it escaped from between clenched teeth. Nathaniel smiled sadly and only leaned closer, their mouths a breath away from touching. He dropped his sword-wielding arm, letting the weapon slip from between his fingers and clatter to the ground.

"I want you to kiss me again, Andrew," he said. "It's a yes."

"Shut up." And Nathaniel did, after Andrew leaned in again and pressed another hard kiss against his lips. Quietly gasping, he shuddered and wanted to reach out, to hold onto anything to ground himself. Andrew eventually caught his hands and placed them in his hair.

"Just here." Breath hot as it ghosted across Nathaniel's lips, he kissed him again and again. Pleasure, unfamiliar but terrifyingly addictive, pooled in Nathaniel's stomach as he gasped again, carding his fingers through Andrew's blond locks. 

"Fuck," he sighed when they tore apart to breathe. Andrew glared at him, looking too murderous for someone who'd just been kissing him like he was the only thing worth touching in the entire world. But the way he fisted Nathaniel's shirt, the way his hands were trembling almost as much as his breaths, told a different story.

Nathaniel couldn't help but smile breathlessly.

"I'll push you into the water," Andrew growled. Nathaniel's grin only grew wider.

"And I'll drag you down with me."

It was a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter will include andrew's pov of the kiss and is halfway done already, so look forward to an update pretty soon!! get ready for an onslaught of love and feelings now bc i've been waiting sO DAMN LONG
> 
> and,, also new characters will be introduced pretty soon. stay tuned.


	22. reclamation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> andrew and aaron sort their issues out, and everyone takes steps toward healing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: references to past self-harm, past sexual assault, and past child abuse / mentions of violence (very brief)
> 
> unedited bc i'm a lazy bum, let me know if you find any errors! <3 take care peeps

It had started when Andrew remembered the necklace Nathaniel had given him.

A small handful of crimson scales, strung over a rough piece of twine, his gift to Andrew when they'd first reunited. It had sat, hidden, underneath Andrew's stash of knives, though he'd been careful not to crush the scales. It was fascinating, really, how such a roughened creature like Nathaniel could be covered with something so fragile.

He was on helm duty, toying with the necklace. The scales were smooth and cool against his skin, the sunlight illuminating the crimson in a way that turned it into a treasure trove of colors: soft pink, honeyed orange, marbled reds. Irregular flecks of gold dotted the precious scales like constellations.

Andrew wasn't a fool. He knew the value of mermaids' scales, especially ones that belonged to a family like the Wesninskis. It was a basic system: the more dangerous a breed was, the more valuable they were. In a way, Nathaniel had entrusted a part of himself - the most coveted, desired part - in Andrew. He'd trusted Andrew not to sell the scales, not to give him away like he was another object for profit - he'd trusted that Andrew would find some value in him other than money.

And he did.

What exactly that value was, Andrew didn't know. What he did know was that Nathaniel was far more than just any merman who just happened to take mercy on Andrew and his lot, sparing them from certain death. Nathaniel was a far cry from any of the true monsters Andrew had ever encountered, even if he didn't think so himself. He was more than a compass, a map, or an atlas of stars. Rather, he was the embodiment of broken courage, of foolish hope, of an apple falling from the tree during a hurricane.

Nathaniel refused to be the people and things who tried to break him. He refused to let anyone craft his shattered pieces into a monstrosity. He refused to be what everyone wanted to define him as: the Butcher's son, and he would fight to find his own place wherever he could.

 _You are who you love, not who loves you._ Bee's words.

Andrew wasn't Drake Spear, or Tilda Minyard, or _any_ of the other bastards who had broken him before. That wasn't to say he wasn't broken - he was. He'd been thrown back to rock bottom but climbing out was embedded in his muscle memory. And he'd be _damned_ if he let the incident with Drake be the thing that stopped him from the long way up.

It hadn't been easy; and it wasn't going to get any easier. He'd broken down in front of Renee, his past had been revealed in front of the people he'd cared most about, he still wasn't talking with Aaron, and he still had nightmares about that sick bastard.

_But he wasn't them._

Reclaiming himself and his own body in the past had been a difficult journey. First it was cutting himself with his own knife, but never badly enough that he'd die. No, his family still needed him. Then it was his role as a navigator - imagining all that he could do to capsize the ship, all the lives in his hands, and all the control that he'd never had before. Afterwards, it was sparring with Renee - a slightly better option - though it did hurt a lot. She refused to go down easily, after all. All the while, it was also refusing to let himself feel anything that could hurt him ever again.

But perhaps there were other options.

_Irises as cold and warm as the sea. Freckles like pieces of the universe had been scattered across tattered skin. Scales as red as blood._

Andrew had likened Nathaniel to a death sentence before - there was nowhere else for Andrew to go but down. But perhaps Nathaniel was the first breath of life Andrew had felt in a long time - the first healing rain on ashen, fire-ravaged land.

_(I want him. I want him. I hate him. I want him)._

There was nothing wrong with wanting. Was there? Andrew wanted -

To break his promise to Drake. To stop feeling. To get his hands off his body. To protect his family. To _feel something._ To find a home and keep it. To get better.

 _How are you supposed to kill someone who's already dead?_ Andrew could imagine himself asking Bee.

Her answer: _you let go, and you reclaim yourself._

Andrew's fifth way of reclaiming himself: through fiery temper, patchwork bravery, and rosy lips.

Letting Nathaniel in meant that Andrew was allowing himself the potential to be hurt again. But hurting was human, and Andrew _refused_ to become stagnant again.

Maybe that was the value Nathaniel really had: making things human. Possessing Midas's touch of gold, but with cautious humanity instead.

He hid the necklace underneath his knives again. He didn't know if or when he'd put it on, but he planned on keeping it.

Then he found himself heading to their meeting place with two swords and a goal in mind: to take the step he'd been too afraid to take before. It wasn't the final stepping stone for healing, but it was certainly a big one.

Nathaniel watched him curiously as he approached. His voice rang out in the silent cave.

"You seem different."

Dropping the clothes he'd brought to the side, Andrew hoped his gaze was blank enough as he turned to stare at Nathaniel. "What?"

"Like you're breathing again."

It was an off-handed comment, but it struck Andrew in the chest regardless. He stared at Nathaniel for a long moment, unable to think of anything to say other than _you're a pipe dream_ , a _saving grace_ , a healer in _every way_ you weren't supposed to be.

He could only muster a muttered, "Staring."

"Mm. I know. When will you and your lot be leaving?" Nathaniel said coyly, flicking his tail upwards. Andrew watched his movements, noting with a dim flash of anger the large tear marring Nathaniel's translucent fins. He'd need to ask for the story behind that scar later.

"In a few days," Andrew replied slowly. "Any suggestions?"

"You're out of the war zone already. All you need to do is sail for open sea now." Something dark and bitterly wistful flickered in Nathaniel's gaze. "Then I trust your navigation skills - you can find your own port from there."

Andrew knelt down, snapping his fingers when Nathaniel didn't look at him. "You idiot," he almost snarled. "Do you really think we'll leave you after everything you've done for us?"

"You have to," the martyr said, blinking. "It's too dangerous here, you know that."

"Wymack has a latent predilection towards saving the hopeless," Andrew said. He'd taken in Andrew, after all. "He wouldn't let you go even if _I_ tried to convince him."

Dipping his head, Nathaniel murmured, "Maybe this is a fight bigger than all of us."

Before Andrew could think of an answer, of a way to say that he refused to believe Nathaniel was a lost cause, he pointed at the two swords strapped against Andrew's hips. "What're those for?"

Andrew glanced down at the weapons, before unstrapping the sword he'd chosen for Nathaniel and throwing it at him.

"Get up," he commanded, standing up. "I'm still going to teach you how to fight."

"I don't have - " Nathaniel trailed off when Andrew poked at the clothes he'd brought. Setting the sword aside, he continued, "You could've told me. I would've brought the other one you gave me."

"This one is probably a better fit anyways." Andrew turned around to give Nathaniel the privacy he needed to change. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep breath as his heart suddenly began to pound. He forced himself to remember Bee's words and Renee's support - _you are who you love, not who loves you._

He wasn't them. He wasn't them. He wouldn't let himself.

(There was a crucial difference, after all, between _wanting_ someone, and wanting to break them just to see what would happen).

Nathaniel startled Andrew out of his reverie. "Okay, I'm done," he announced. Andrew cleared his throat, forcing himself to shake off inhibitions.

"You remember what I taught you before?" He unsheathed his own sword, and Nathaniel did the same.

"Mirror your opponent, stay on your toes, watch your footwork," he listed. "What brought this on, by the way?"

"I promised I would teach you to fight for yourself, didn't I?" Andrew said after a long minute of grasping for words. A smile dawned on Nathaniel's face, soft as the sunrise, and Andrew couldn't take it any longer. He slashed his sword in Nathaniel's direction without warning, but the young man was quick enough that he managed to deflect Andrew's blow.

"Don't be distracted," Andrew lied when Nathaniel regained his footing, shooting him a disgruntled glare. "You're still putting too much weight in your heels."

They fought for what seemed like hours, Andrew muttering ways for Nathaniel to improve, before having his own tactics used against him. He stopped each time he disarmed Nathaniel, asking if he still wanted to continue, and while Nathaniel kept nodding breathlessly, Andrew's real question burned insistently in his throat.

 _Can I kiss you? Can I_ want _you?_

It was enough to almost drive him insane.

So the next time they fought, Andrew eventually slammed his sword into Nathaniel's hard enough he was almost afraid the metal would shatter. Nathaniel pushed back against him, the unpleasant noise of metals sliding together piercing through the breathy silence. Andrew shoved at him, backing him up into the wall, only stopping when they were close enough that their elbows and knees brushed.

"Hey," the idiot said with a breathless grin as Andrew stared at his lips. "I didn't lose this time."

"You didn't win," Andrew said darkly.

"You still want to kill me?"

_Of course not._

Andrew bit out, "I hate you." _For making me feel this way when I thought I never could._

Nathaniel tilted his head to the side, swallowing harshly. His voice was unsteady when he retorted, "One time out of ten, you don't."

"I always hate you," Andrew said. "You're just sometimes interesting enough to keep around."

"Oh? Is that a compliment?"

Andrew shoved their swords down. They were barely a breath apart now. His heart hammered hard enough he was sure Nathaniel could feel it, and a thousand voices were screaming at him to just pull away before he could hurt Nathaniel, before he could fuck up -

 _You are who you love, not_ -

"Yes or no?"

Andrew wasn't even sure he'd said it out loud until Nathaniel breathed, after a long pause, "Yes."

_Yes._

He stared intently at Nathaniel, hoping against all hope that the sudden fluttering in his chest didn't show on his face. There was no trace of doubt or distaste in Nathaniel's eyes, only warmth and thinly veiled curiosity. A smile ghosted his lips as he met Andrew's gaze.

(Andrew didn't love Nathaniel. No, he _hated_ him).

And that was why he leaned in as slowly as he could manage, giving Nathaniel all the time in the world to pull away if he wanted to; and that was why he kissed Nathaniel with the desperation a drowning sailor would kiss air. 

_Reclamation._

Putting old graves to rest and smashing the markers. Righting what was damaged and taking the first breath in a long time. Unearthing the parts of himself that he could still save. That was what kissing Nathaniel was.

It was Nathaniel's soft gasp that brought Andrew back to himself, and he pulled away. He searched Nathaniel's eyes for something, _anything_ , to indicate if he'd done something wrong. Maybe he had stepped too far - Nathaniel wasn't saying anything, just staring back, wide-eyed and breathless. Andrew felt his heart falling as he started to pull away completely, his skin cold where Nathaniel's touch had been - because maybe he'd ruined this, maybe he'd taken too much before giving, and he'd _never_ be able to forgive himself - 

"Andrew?" Nathaniel was whispering. 

His fingers ached from holding onto his sword so tightly. He forced the next words out of his mouth. "Tell me no."

Nathaniel's hand shot out to touch his wrist as he straightened up, though he stopped just in time. Andrew froze when he paused. Something terribly warm unfurled in his chest at the aborted movement, and he belatedly wished he could just tear it right out of himself. 

Nathaniel was waiting for something. Andrew glanced down at where his fingers still hovered over his wrist, and then nodded slightly. The first brush of Nathaniel's fingertips against Andrew's skin sent shivers down his spine.

"Kiss me again," he breathed. 

Andrew shut his eyes tightly. Want and fear warred relentlessly in his chest, and it was almost enough to shatter him. "Stop lying."

"I'm not," the idiot said. "I want it."

"I won't let you let me be," Andrew said harshly. "I won't be like them."

_Promise me you won't let me._

Their foreheads brushed as Nathaniel dared to lean forward. He rested two fingers over Andrew's pounding heart. 

"You aren't. I know you aren't," he murmured. "You're Andrew."

"I _hate_ you." 

(I hate that I don't).

Nathaniel's sword clattered to the ground, and Andrew's eyes shot open. There was a sad smile on his face as he said, "I want you to kiss me again, Andrew. It's a yes."

"Shut up."

Andrew kissed him again, and he felt some of the war inside him settle. Nathaniel gasped quietly again, shuddering. Andrew caught his hands and raised them up, barely holding back a tremble himself, and placed them in his hair.

"Just here," he almost pleaded.

Nathaniel began to card his fingers through Andrew's hair, holding him softly and never pulling. He gasped out, "Fuck," when they had to pull apart to catch their breaths. Andrew couldn't help but fist Nathaniel's shirt tightly, hoping it would drive out the tremors in his fingers. 

It didn't.

At that moment, Nathaniel's smile could have put all the stars back in the empty night sky. 

"I'll push you into the water," Andrew reflexively threatened. The idiot grinned, a barely there laugh drifting from his throat.

"And I'll drag you down with me."

Exhausted and invigorated, Andrew leaned his forehead against Nathaniel's again.

He imagined his own grave, fathoms away from where Drake's body rotted. Then he breathed in, fixating his attention on where Nathaniel's thumb swept over his neck. 

It would be okay. He wouldn't see it for a long while.

\--

Nathaniel dreaded going back home that night.

The taste of Andrew lingered on his lips as he swam deep down. Unable to rid himself of the pirate's memory, of his hazel eyes and his rough but tender kisses, Nathaniel forced himself to swim faster.

He spotted Lorraine and Jackson on his way to the heart of his father's kingdom, but they thankfully ignored him. Many of Nathan's merpeople were gone, probably hunting or looking out for any sign of the Ravens. Nathaniel hadn't heard from or seen them once after Nathan had killed two of their crewmates, but he supposed he should've been glad about that.

Nathan and Lola were swimming about in the same cave his father had tortured Nathaniel. He backed away, struggling to keep his stomach from overturning at the memory, and darted behind a patch of corals. 

"You think they'll take us out?" Lola was asking. Her voice was gravelly and multiplied, the way it always sounded whenever she was angry or paranoid.

"No. They can't." Nathaniel could hear the awful smile in his father's voice. "If not even the greatest hunter in the world can kill me, then how can that pathetic birdbrain do the same?"

"I remember him." Lola laughed quietly, the noise cold and grating.

"The poor man. I take but I never give back."

"Indeed."

"The Ravens must have left too. I see no sign of them in these waters anymore."

"Cowards." Lola paused, and Nathaniel began to swim away before they could catch him. But then she asked, "Say, that hunter. What happened to him anyways?"

Nathan didn't answer right away, like he was thinking. Nathaniel felt vaguely sick as he imagined all that his father could've done to whoever that hunter was, whoever was foolish enough to take on the Butcher.

"I merely tore off his leg."

"Ah, Wesninskis aren't supposed to be merciful though."

His father's ending words were a cruel punchline.

"Oh, I make exceptions, Lola. The man, after all, was just trying to find his sister."

Nathaniel swam away as quickly as he could, his head spinning. Their laughter echoed through the cave, slightly muddled as the sound rippled through the water. It threatened to pierce Nathaniel to the bone as he darted away.

He sometimes thought it would be better if he just remained on the land. But as long as he didn't act out anymore, his father would leave him alone. It had always been that way - _be quiet, take what you're given, say no more._ Mary's lessons were engraved into his memory. Survival, after all, was bending just far enough before breaking. It was how he'd gotten by before he met Andrew or any of the Foxes, and it was how he'd continue to get by, as long as his father remained alive.

He had too many ties. To Andrew, to Jean, to the Foxes. To a Wesninski, having ties were a death sentence - but Nathaniel was too far deep to bear cutting them off.

The thought was so saddening that he felt physically sick. Nathaniel broke the surface of the water, staring up at the fathomless stars. Hope was fleeting, a fire that kept getting doused as often as it flickered alive. 

"Tomorrow," he whispered to himself, watching as one of the stars twinkled and then died out. He'd figure it out, he promised himself.

\--

"The Ravens are gone," Nathaniel told Andrew the next day. "My father's lackeys scouted everywhere, but they didn't find their ship."

The merman was leaning against the rock wall of the cave again, water droplets still rolling off his skin. Andrew sat in front of him, unable to stop playing with Nathaniel's fingers. He felt more settled than he'd been in a long time.

"They will come back," he said.

Nathaniel twitched slightly, sighing. "Without a doubt. My father thinks we've scared them off, but they're going to retaliate. I know they will. Riko won't stand for it."

"Something you want to tell me?" Andrew asked after the merman shut his eyes tightly and lifted their intertwined hands up, pressing barely trembling lips against Andrew's palm. He forced himself to ignore the heat flooding from his chest as Nathaniel's lips turned upwards in a sad smile. 

"I made a promise to Jean, back when I was still with the Ravens," he said, not quite a question.

"Yes," Andrew replied. He tried not to become too tense, though he knew Nathaniel could tell from the way the merman began to run his fingers over Andrew's knuckles.

"I said that I would get him out, however I could." 

His fingers stopped tickling against Andrew's skin as he waited for an answer. Andrew just gazed at Nathaniel, slipping his hand out from Nathaniel's and tilting the merman's chin up. It looked like his eyes had changed color, from a halcyon blue to gold pools. 

Eventually Andrew just heaved a long-suffering sigh. "You are an idiot."

"He helped me, you know. He didn't hurt me."

"I wasn't saying that." Andrew curled his fingers against Nathaniel's jaw, and the merman sank against his touch. "Since when did you start trying to save everyone?"

"You're one to talk." Shrugging, Nathaniel pushed himself up so that they were eye-level. "I just hate feeling helpless."

"The Ravens will come back. You will get your chance." Andrew glared at him, his heart clenching just thinking about the thought of having to see Riko's face again. "But you won't be doing it alone."

Nathaniel gazed steadily back at him, before breaking into a small smile. "I trust you."

Those three words shouldn't have made Andrew feel so damn _much_ , but they did, and he was half-tempted to just shove Nathaniel's face away from his so the emotions would stop welling up in his chest.

"I don't think I've ever told you about my mother's side of the family," Nathaniel murmured after a long while of silence. "I only ever told you about my - father."

"I didn't ask before," Andrew replied, brushing aside one of Nathaniel's curls.

"Take this as a truth on credit, then." He shifted close, tilting his cheek into Andrew's palm. "She used to be a huntress for this family, the Hatfords. And she was one of the best, too. Her people are the only real threat to my father and his empire, people who actually know what they're doing. We're the most dangerous but wanted breeds of merfolk in the world, you know."

"I know." 

"She told me about some of her old hunting experiences," Nathaniel continued, almost wistfully. Andrew could sense the delayed mourning in his voice, and he wished that he could take the feeling away. "Hunting down my father? It would've been the pinnacle of her career."

Andrew murmured when Nathaniel fell silent, "But it didn't work."

"No," he said. "I don't know how, but he knew she was coming. He - he managed to convince her otherwise, you could say." A humorless smile crossed his face, a stark difference from the previous warmth that had been there. "It was the only time he ever did it himself. He turned her into a mermaid instead of killing her. And then I was born."

"And what happened to her?" Andrew eventually asked.

"She tried to take me away - that was when I first found out that I had the ability to transform - but it didn't work." Nathaniel sighed softly, closing his eyes. Delicate blue veins ran beneath his eyelids. "When my father found her again he killed her."

Andrew knew that it was useless to feel angry over things that had already happened - but he'd never been sensible with his feelings in the first place. If Bee were there she would've said it was a good thing, feeling angry - it meant he was letting himself hurt, whether it was for his own reasons or for others. 

They sat together for the rest of the afternoon, the sunlight dappling the water and Nathaniel's skin.

Eventually Andrew had to return to the _Palmetto Foxhole._ He left Nathaniel with a lingering squeeze to the hand and a few more pieces of advice on how to handle swords, before heading back.

He climbed back onto the ship, landing nearly silently on the deck. The rest of the Foxes were busy, preparing to set sail tomorrow. Renee and Jeremy were at the helm with Wymack, while all the traders were congregated together discussing what they could do with what supplies they had. Andrew spotted Kevin by the mast with Matt, staring at his compass.

He looked up when Andrew approached. He certainly seemed more stable compared to the last time they'd talked, and Andrew raised his eyebrows almost expectantly. 

Kevin winced. "Not yet," he answered Andrew's silent question. Then his gaze drifted to where Wymack was. 

"You don't have much time," Andrew said as Matt glanced between them, confused. He suspected that while the Ravens were gone, they would most certainly come back. 

Lolling his head back so it knocked against the mast, Kevin nodded. "I know. I'll do it, I promise."

Matt asked, "What's going on?"

Andrew ignored him and left him with Kevin, heading down for their sleeping quarters. He began to unstrap his knives, so lost in thought over the threat of the Ravens and Nathaniel that he didn't notice his brother in the shadows.

"Where were you?" Aaron demanded suddenly. Andrew started slightly, exhaling loudly before idly taking one of his knives out and cleaning it. Aaron waited for another second, before asking again, "You were with Nathaniel again, weren't you?"

Andrew paused for the briefest moment, but Aaron caught it and latched onto it.

"What're you doing with him? He's only supposed to help us get out of here. There's no reason for you to constantly check up on him." He narrowed his eyes. "Unless you really do have something with him."

"I don't know what you mean," Andrew said quietly, putting the knife away. "I also don't know why this is the reason you start talking to me again."

Aaron blinked almost indignantly. Andrew started to leave, but his brother stepped in front of him, cutting him off. That was when Andrew noticed the dark red object clutched in his brother's hand.

Nathaniel's scales.

"You're not as secretive as you'd like to think, Andrew," he said.

"Why were you looking through my things?" Andrew asked.

"Just curious," his brother replied, though they both knew he was lying. "Curious as to why you're allowed to go off with Nathaniel but I'm not allowed to do the same with Katelyn."

"Leave him out of this. Give that back." Aaron paused like he was gauging Andrew's reactions, but he eventually tossed the necklace at him. Andrew caught it and tucked it into his pockets, gingerly so that he didn't damage any of the scales. Then he tried to go around Aaron again, but his brother grabbed his arm and pushed him back. Andrew snapped, "Don't touch me," and Aaron let go obediently.

"I want you to leave Katelyn alone too. I've seen the way you look at her, like you want to kill her. She did nothing to you."

"You're breaking our deal by going off with her," Andrew said, turning around. "Of course she did something."

"I'm not doing anything," Aaron snapped. "But you're breaking our deal the same way by going off with _him._ He belongs to a family of _monsters_."

Andrew froze, then whirled back around to face his brother. Something in him snapped at Aaron's words, and now all the anger he'd been pushing back suddenly flooded forward. Because Nathaniel was the furthest thing from a monster - he was a creature of wonder and fatality, but _never_ a monster. He didn't know why, but just hearing Aaron speak Nathaniel's name felt like he was tarnishing it.

"You say that like your own mother wasn't a fucking monster too," he snarled furiously. Aaron's eyes widened almost comically as his fists clenched on air.

"She was _our_ mother. She was yours too!"

"That _wench_ threw me to the streets on a whim and hit you for looking in the wrong direction. When will you get that through your head?"

"You don't understand."

"I don't think I need to."

His brother shut his eyes tightly. He knew he'd never win this argument against Andrew, so he tried a different tactic.

"Katelyn is different. Katelyn won't hurt me."

Oh, maybe it was true, but Andrew was furious. And when he was furious, he wanted to hurt - because every single one of his nerves was seething and every single thing he was ever angry about was beginning to resurface right then.

So he smiled at Aaron, a cruel mockery of a grin, and said, "Are you sure she isn't just brainwashing you again? Wasn't that what you said about Tilda? Because she loved you, didn't she? That's why she kept beating you? Because she wouldn't hurt you again? How many times did she break that promise, Aaron, because _I_ lost count."

Aaron was shaking as he bit out, "Fuck you, Andrew. You're just another fucking hypocrite."

Andrew was throwing him against the wall and pinning him there before he could even register what he was doing. Aaron grunted but didn't fight back, only glaring at Andrew as he raised a shaking fist, ready to punch his teeth out.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Andrew whispered with faux cheer.

Aaron struggled slightly when Andrew's grip tightened, wheezing out, "If you want me to l-let Katelyn go, then you'll have to let N-Nathaniel go too."

Andrew nearly throttled him. He drew his fist back even further just as someone began to knock on the door.

"Guys? Is something wrong?" It was Nicky.

Aaron took advantage of Andrew's momentary distraction, barreling on. "But you don't want to, do you? Because you _like_ Nathaniel.”

“Leave him out of this,” Andrew repeated.

“Our deal was that you'd protect me as long as I stay with you,” Aaron wheezed.  “I-I'm not going anywhere. B-But I don't need your protection anymore."

"Then I will break your fucking face," Andrew spat. "See how you like it."

A hollow smirk curved Aaron's lips. "You wouldn't be able to make yourself."

Andrew’s fist shook violently.

Who was it that said the truth hurt?

Even in his outrage, even with the red in his vision nearly blinding him, Andrew knew that Aaron was right. He'd never be able to hurt Aaron, not even when he was pissed out of his mind. Because Andrew had been broken time and time again, and above all else, he'd made a promise to himself that he couldn't ever make himself break: that he _wouldn't_ be like _them._

In a war against Aaron, Andrew would always lose. Because he'd throw himself off the ends of the world a thousand times over before ever laying a hand on his brother.

So he let go of Aaron, allowing him to step away just as the door opened. Nicky peered in, eyes wide with blatant concern.

"Are you - "

Andrew waited until Aaron was out of arm's reach, before punching the wall hard enough he felt his knuckles break.

Numbly, he stared down at his right hand, at the blood oozing out from the split skin, unable to register the pain of his bones fracturing. Splinters from the dented wood were embedded in his skin, sending lancing pain up his arm every time he so much as twitched his fingers. Behind him somewhere, Nicky shrieked his name, but all Andrew could hear were Aaron's next words.

"You've hurt yourself enough protecting me," he said quietly. "Let me do it myself now."

The unspoken _please_ hung between them, and it hurt even more than Andrew's hand.

_Let me go._

He couldn't do much else, because Aaron was leaving, and Nicky was descending upon Andrew with tears streaming down his face.

"Oh, Andrew, what did you do to yourself?" he was whimpering as he gently took Andrew's broken hand, cradling it as he tried to wipe away the blood. Andrew vaguely wanted to tell Nicky to stop touching him, to get away, but there was more commotion at the door, and Kevin and Renee emerged.

Kevin's eyes were wide and haunted as he stared at Andrew's hand, his own left hand twitching at his side. "You're a fucking idiot," he breathed as Renee approached, gently nudging Nicky aside to take a look. Andrew stared Kevin down, and suddenly everything was so hysterical - things were coming full circle now, with Andrew breaking his hand just like Kevin had broken his - that he started to laugh again.

Renee stepped in front of him, any warmth in her eyes replaced by seriousness.

"Andrew, you need to see Abby. Okay?"

He didn't say anything, just let Renee lead him out of the room toward Abby's office. Aaron was nowhere to be seen. And honestly, Andrew didn't think he wanted to see him.

Somehow he'd let Aaron back him into a corner, holding an ultimatum fashioned out of his own words to his throat rather than a knife. And somehow, the ultimatum felt far deadlier than the blade.

\--

The trick to win a war against Andrew Minyard?

_Make sure he loves you._

\--

That day, it wasn't Andrew who found Nathaniel in the cave, but Renee Walker.

He emerged from the water as she approached, a somewhat fractured smile on her face as she greeted him. Nathaniel propped himself up on his elbows and ignored the sudden pounding of his heart.

"Did something happen to Andrew?" he demanded as soon as she was within earshot. Renee's smile fell at her friend's name, but she knelt down so that she could be eye-level with Nathaniel anyway.

"Yes, but it's nothing bad," she assured him, her voice soft and soothing. "He hurt his hand, is all."

Nathaniel narrowed his eyes, digging his nails into his palm. He still didn't know the complete story of what exactly Andrew had gone through, but he knew enough that he'd tear the world apart if anything else happened to him. "What happened?"

Renee shook her head. "I'll let him tell you. I have a request."

Her words were so sudden that they jarred Nathaniel out of his haze of anger and worry. He blinked, meeting her earnest eyes. "What is it?" he eventually asked, forcing himself to unclench his fists. His fingers ached from how hard he'd been holding them.

Renee sat down, making herself more comfortable. "I heard that if you kiss someone, all your powers will transfer to them."

"Yes, for a short time," Nathaniel said after a long minute. "It's true."

(It was the reason why he never actually kissed any of the sailors he hunted - he couldn't afford to give them his powers).

"If it's alright with you, I wanted to ask you to come back with me to the _Palmetto Foxhole_ and heal him. Wymack and Abby refuse to let him out of their sight," Renee said softly. Nathaniel couldn't find any words to respond, only staring at her dumbly.

"You - know about us?" he asked after a while. Renee smiled sadly.

"I've known Andrew for years. The closer you get to him, the more you'll find that he doesn't actually hide all that well." Her eyes broke as she looked away. "He cares, Nathaniel. He cares _so much_ and it hurts me that no one else can see it."

"What will the others think?" Nathaniel asked quietly. His throat was tight with agreement, and though he couldn't voice it he knew that Renee could tell.

She replied, "I think that's of little consequence, don't you?"

He thought so too.

When Nathaniel slipped back underwater, it was Renee's cue to stand up. He swam out from the cave tunnels, darting back toward the surface as soon as he made sure the coast was clear. He followed her figure in the direction of their ship, only diving deeper down when he spotted its massive hull floating by the beach.

The nearby vicinity was mostly empty already, except for two figures standing at the edge of the water. Nathaniel poked his head above the water to see that it was Andrew and Wymack, the latter who was gazing at him with a muted sort of curiosity.

Nathaniel ignored him, ignored the fact that Renee was taking Wymack by the elbow and leading him away, and only focused on Andrew. He swam closer, as close as he could without beaching himself.

"Andrew," he murmured. His eyes fell to where the pirate was holding his right hand, and inwardly winced when he saw the blood spotting through the bandages.

The pirate glanced at him, his eyes far too blank. Nathaniel said again, softly, "Andrew, come here."

Wymack and Renee looked on in the back as Andrew finally moved, walking toward him and kneeling down in the shallows. Nathaniel took his injured hand in his own, carefully unwrapping the bandages so that he could see the damage.

It was brutal, the way Andrew's knuckles were split and still bleeding in some parts. Nathaniel's heart clenched at the sight, but he was careful to keep any emotions off his face as he touched his fingertips to Andrew's rough palm.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I punched a wall," was Andrew's flat answer.

"You hurt yourself," Nathaniel corrected. Andrew glared at him, the fingers of his good hand twitching.

"I already heard enough from Wymack," he said shortly. "I don't need it from you too."

"Maybe you're the martyr, not me," Nathaniel whispered.

"No. I'm just self-destructive." Andrew's eyes were dark when he said that. "There's a difference."

"Hey." Nathaniel let go of his hand to reach up and cup Andrew's face, keeping his touch light in case Andrew wanted to pull away. "Shut up."

"That's my line."

"Stop being difficult. What was it?"

All the leftover fight went out of Andrew in a quiet sigh. He slumped slightly, tilting his head just a little into Nathaniel's palm. "I fought with my brother."

"Aaron?"

"So I punched a wall."

"Okay." Nathaniel rubbed his thumb in small circles against Andrew's cheek. "Renee wants me to heal your hand."

"I don't care."

He kept one hand on Andrew's injured one, holding it as delicately as he could, and leaned up as far as he was able to. "I'm going to kiss you now. Yes or no?"

The young pirate shut his eyes. Nathaniel lowered his hand so that it was just barely submerged in the water. The only sign Andrew was in pain was the short, cut-off breath that escaped from between his teeth.

"Yes," he finally said.

Nathaniel didn't hesitate to kiss him, craning his neck up to capture Andrew's lips in his. He kept his hand steady, holding it still until he could feel a tugging sensation in his chest, a tingly warmth that spread through his entire body. Nathaniel only kissed Andrew harder, letting his power flow through where they were touching underwater.

Eventually he pulled away when he became too dizzy. Andrew's eyes were already open as he stared at his hand, though he reached out and caught Nathaniel as he swayed slightly. It was more draining than he thought it'd be, healing Andrew, but it was worth it.

Nathaniel pulled back, letting himself drift as the process finished. Drowsily, he watched as Andrew slowly lifted his right hand, turning it over to see his smooth, clean knuckles and flexing his fingers as if to test them out.

Footsteps behind them caused both of them to look up abruptly. Wymack and Renee were standing over them, their faces slack with wonder and shock.

"No wonder everyone wants you," Wymack commented wryly as Renee bent down to examine Andrew's hand. Nathaniel smiled emptily at the thought of his kind being hunted down just for the powers and beauty of their scales - it was a fact of his life that he was well-accustomed to.

"Thank you, Nathaniel," Renee breathed while Andrew stared at him.

Wymack looked between the two of them. "Is this going to be a problem, Minyard?"

Andrew took his hand out of Renee's grip. His gaze was still blank as he glanced up at his captain, but Nathaniel felt Andrew's other hand brush against his own underwater. It was the only sign that Andrew was grateful, and he held that knowledge close to his chest.

"No, Coach," Andrew said quietly.

"Good." Wymack glanced at Nathaniel again, before turning toward Renee. "I'll leave you two to it. Renee, would you like the pleasure of telling Kevin to finally stop freaking out?"

"I think you should do it, Coach," she said pleasantly as the two of them headed off. Nathaniel stayed with Andrew, linking their fingers together. He dared to lean forward so that his head could rest in Andrew's lap, and was surprised that the pirate let him. A hand - the hand Nathaniel had just healed - settled on the back of his neck, and he smiled against Andrew's thigh.

"Don't do it again, okay?" he asked softly.

Andrew's fingers curled in Nathaniel's hair. "Pipe dream," he mumbled.

His voice sounded defeated, like Nathaniel had just won some war he didn't even know they were fighting.

But he didn't say anything else, only squeezing Andrew's hand and letting the pirate stroke his hair almost too tenderly as the sun set.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll be very busy the next 2 weeks, and i'll also be focusing on my big bang fic, but i promise i'll try to update this and fugue in red whenever i can! these 2 fics + big bang are my writing priorities at the moment.
> 
> (i'm really excited for the next chapter tho, it'll be setting up for some intense action. keep nathan and lola's conversation in mind!)


	23. the bloody mary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a long-overdue reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings, vague discussions of andrew's past but, again, nothing is explicit
> 
> i am So sorry for the huge delay in updates. trying to finish up my big bang fic before the deadline bc i'm just a huge procrastinator and terrible person + writer's block but here! it is! but hey i just rewatched potc3 and i'm buzzin with inspo again
> 
> unedited, so PLEASE let me know if there are any mistakes!! <3
> 
> previously: lots of introspection on andrew's part, he and aaron have a fight ending in andrew breaking his hand, but nathaniel heals it.

When it came time for Andrew to return to the ship, seemingly hours later, he tugged lightly at Nathaniel's hair. The merman looked up, his icy blue eyes hazy and golden underneath the sunset, as he propped himself up on his elbows.

"My brother," he murmured, because he figured Nathaniel deserved a real explanation at the very least. "We had a deal. I protect him, and he stays with me. He wants me to break that deal."

"Okay," Nathaniel whispered. "So?"

Andrew nearly scoffed. "It was the only thing keeping us together in the first place."

It took a moment for his words to fully register, but Andrew could tell when they did - Nathaniel's eyes darkened, not from anger, but from some strange, twisted understanding. He reached up to brush his thumb along Andrew's cheek, lips turned in a sad sort of smile.

"I don't know him," he said quietly, earnestly, "but I know he won't abandon you."

"You don't know."

"I do." Nathaniel shrugged. "Do you think my mother was abandoning me when she left me aboard some ship as a stowaway to hide me from my father?"

Andrew raised his eyebrows, and Nathaniel laughed breathily. "She did it to save me - or at least, she tried to. Aaron's not doing this because he wants to leave you. He wants to save you too. You've saved him, haven't you?"

His chest clenched wrongly, and Andrew shut his eyes tightly. Nathaniel stroked his cheeks. 

"I know you care, Andrew." His voice was too soft, like pink sea foam and sand. "But you are not a failure, and you surely are not alone."

"Shut up," Andrew gritted out, before the uncomfortable _emotions_ , the _humanness_ , threatened to swell up too far and drown him. But Nathaniel's smile was all-knowing as he touched Andrew's temple lightly.

"I have to go before my father notices," he mumbled. "But I will find you." 

"I know." Their hands were still intertwined underwater, but Andrew reluctantly let go of Nathaniel. But before he could slip away, he leaned up one more time, a silent question in his ocean irises.

Andrew leaned in and silently kissed him once more. Ghostly and grateful at the same time, Nathaniel sighed quietly, knotting his fingers in Andrew's hair, before he pulled back. They didn't say anything else as Nathaniel retreated from the shallows, swimming away so quickly Andrew wasn't sure if he'd been there at all.

(But he knew Nathaniel had been right there, because his lips still tingled, his hand was whole again, and his heart throbbed with something larger than life, something fierce that Nathaniel always left behind, wherever he went).

He stood up, his knees weak from kneeling for so long. But he forced himself to walk, head bowed against the dying sunset, eyes sharp for anyone who dared to look his way.

Andrew supposed he was somewhat glad he didn't see Aaron anywhere when he stepped back aboard the ship. His brother was probably off somewhere with Katelyn. He didn't have time to dwell on anything else before Wymack pulled him into his office. 

Brushing off everyone else's concerned and curious stares, Andrew followed him into the cabin, letting the door slam shut. He stood silently as his coach leaned over his desk, sighing heavily. A bottle of half-finished rum sat by a pile of maps.

"Andrew," he finally said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You know I make it a point not to get involved in your _personal_ business - "

"I remember everything you say and do, Coach," Andrew said flatly. "No need to lecture me again."

" _Is_ this going to be a problem? You and Aaron?" Wymack looked up at him, and for a moment, something flickered weakly in Andrew's chest at how _old_ he looked just then. Not old like he was aging, but old like he was just beginning to feel the effects of bearing the weight of perhaps a dozen broken people on his shoulders - the delayed reaction.

It was the old look of someone who was willing to throw himself into battle over and over again, just for the sake of keeping his ship and crew from sinking.

He stared at Wymack, Aaron's ultimatum echoing cruelly in his head, while his right hand ached with phantom pain. 

There was nothing he could say that Wymack would want to hear. He figured he could tell his coach that he and Aaron were okay, that they were just having another one of their disagreements and it'd sputter out quickly like wildfire in a storm, but they both knew better. And now, with word spreading among the Foxes about their conflicts, word which included Nathaniel, Andrew really had no choice but to leave his own wounds bare in some sorry attempt to fix the mess he was living. 

He shifted onto his other foot, tilting his head as Wymack raised an eyebrow. 

"We will handle it," was all he said.

His coach sighed, before shoving the rum his way. Andrew glanced down at it, before slowly reaching out and picking it up. He took a swig as Wymack straightened up, crossing his arms.

"I trust you, Andrew," he said gruffly. He pretended to choke on the rum out of shock, much to Wymack's annoyance, though he couldn't help the way his chest clenched at his coach's words. 

He lowered the bottle, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. "Okay," he said.

"Goddammit, just listen to me," Wymack snapped. "I trust you. Way more than I probably should. But we _cannot_ afford divisions now. The Ravens are still a threat, and we're still not out of the dark yet. If you need me to help, then I will help. Otherwise, I can't have you two jeopardizing us in any way."

Andrew swished the rum around in the bottle, watching the liquor splash about, in favor of looking Wymack in the eye. But he knew Wymack wouldn't let him go without a solid confirmation, so he huffed shortly, tucked away the brewing anger and desperation in his chest, and nodded.

"I know." 

Wymack stared at him for a moment longer, before nodding. "Good." Then his gaze softened just a fraction, and he said, "Go get some rest, Minyard."

"I'll be keeping this, Coach," Andrew muttered, taking the rum with him as he made his way out. 

The day's events wore down on his back, and he was suddenly exhausted. He let himself into Abby's office rather than the sleeping quarters, unwilling to risk any interaction with his brother, lest he be tempted to try and hit Aaron again. Andrew sat down heavily, staring at the opposite wall with the door half-open, slowly finishing the rest of Wymack's rum.

War was tiring - in a bone-weary, heart-heavy kind of way. It seemed that Andrew's life was just an endless series of battles, one after the other, and he could never quite get his head above the water long enough to call it a victory.

But he'd have to keep trying, wouldn't he?

(He figured he'd fought too long to let himself sink by now).

((And he figured that Nathaniel was right, no matter how wrong his words felt to Andrew, who'd built his entire life, survival, and recovery from one promise at a time)).

Renee's words from what seemed like years ago resurfaced in the silence, echoing gently in his mind.

_You will rise._

And if there was something he _knew_ how to do, whether it was out of spite or sheer grit, it was how to _rise_

Andrew reached into his pocket and pulled out the necklace Nathaniel had given him. He turned it in the dim light of the room, tiny orbs of gold reflecting off the scales, dancing around the walls. Treacherous memories of Nathaniel's lips on his, the honeyed softness underneath the sharp, deadly armor, and cherry blossom courage threatened to swamp Andrew. He shut his eyes, pushing them aside. 

Then, after a moment of hesitation, he reached up and tied the string around his neck. Nathaniel's scales felt cold yet fiery hot where they rested against the hollow of his throat. Oddly enough, the sensation didn't feel wrong at all.

Andrew tugged up his collar to hide the crimson scales, before slumping down against the wall and closing his eyes. He wasn't expecting a restful sleep at all, but he let his exhaustion drag him under nonetheless.

\--

Nathaniel stayed out in the open for a while, watching the occasional school of fish swim by, only to dart away whenever he reached out toward them. Moonlight rippled through the water, half-hidden by dark gray clouds. Rolling over so that he floated on his back, Nathaniel peered up at the black sky. He could barely see any of the stars that night, only a few peering out from behind the thick veil of mist.

If he looked hard enough he'd probably see the outline of the Foxes' ship in the distance. 

And of course, thinking of the Foxes brought him full-circle, all the way back to Andrew. The harsh breath of pain hidden behind the sharp apathy, the blank nothingness - the desperate yet invisible way he seemed to cling on to everything, without anyone noticing. His broken edges slotted nearly perfectly with Nathaniel's: the longing to do something greater than himself, to find some sort of humanity in the darkest hollows everyone else deemed _monstrous._

It was almost pathetic, how badly he wanted to protect Andrew, when he was about as useless on land as he was trapped underwater.

He turned away from the sky, diving deep below where the light barely reached the ocean floor.

The water was wide, he thought bitterly as he swam past the last fingers of moonlight, but, _oh_ , how terribly lonely it was.

By the time the sky lightened, a forewarning for the rising sun, Nathaniel had spent the whole night just swimming about. He rose back up the surface, exhausted but invigorated at the same time, and poked his head above the water. He looked around, at the familiar rosy tint of the clouds, the distant outlines of islands, and the receding fog, before his eyes snagged on a shape not far from the rocky cliff the Foxes were at. 

Nathaniel tried swimming closer to get a closer look, but he froze when he noticed the shape coming closer. It was oddly fast, streamline as it cut through the water like an arrow.

Another ship.

He immediately dove back underwater, unwilling to risk being seen. The lightening sky prevented him from getting a good look at the vessel's colors, but it was dark enough to be another one of the Ravens' supposed armada.

Heart pounding as a familiar wave of panic threatened to make its way up his throat, Nathaniel turned and swam, as quickly as he could, to where he knew he'd find the Foxes.

As soon as he neared the ship, Nathaniel found a nearby rock and threw it onto the deck. A few moments later, someone peeked over the edge - it was Renee.

Her eyes widened when she saw him. "Nathaniel?" 

"Renee," he said, grabbing onto the ropes dangling off the side. "We have company."

\-- 

Andrew woke up from his restless sleep when Abby rudely walked into her own office and called his name.

"What?" He pushed himself up as she smiled almost fondly, though the anxiety in her eyes was off-putting enough that any traces of Andrew's exhaustion faded away immediately.

"We've spotted another ship," she said. "They're close to us. Probably too close."

Andrew jumped off her bed and followed her out, only stopping by his own hammock to grab his sword and knives. Almost subconsciously, he brushed his fingers against Nathaniel's necklace on his way out, the scales warming his skin like there were whole sunrises trapped inside.

He headed up to the helm instead of where the other Foxes were gathered by the starboard side. Wymack, Dan, and Kevin were already there, along with - 

Nathaniel.

Andrew approached him quickly and touched his elbow lightly. Nathaniel started, though he relaxed when he noticed it was Andrew. 

"I don't know where it came from," he said lowly in lieu of a greeting. "It's like it came here overnight."

Wymack glanced over at them, lowering his spyglass. "It doesn't look like a Raven ship," he said. "And it doesn't look like anyone is on it."

"What are you saying, that it's a ghost ship?" Kevin asked. 

"Of course not." Wymack rolled his eyes. "I'm saying it's worth taking a look at."

"They might be stranded like us," Dan added. "And maybe we could offer them help."

"Your altruism will kill us all," Andrew said dryly. Nathaniel twitched at his words, and Andrew squeezed his wrist in reassurance. Dan didn't look bothered by his comments, only rolling her eyes - she was learning from Wymack - and motioning for them to follow her.

"I mean, we _have_ robbed people a few times. Not completely selfless," she remarked. 

"Orders, then?" Kevin had one hand on his pistol. He still hesitated on using his right side to fight, so he opted for guns instead. Though he did seem to have grown a spine since the last time he and Andrew had talked, a fact that he only reinforced with a smoothly annoyed glare when Dan arched an eyebrow at him.

Her captain persona resurfacing, Dan walked up to the rest of the Foxes and called, "Oy!", before she started deftly issuing orders.

Andrew, Nathaniel, Renee, Dan, Allison, and Wymack were to go, while everyone else was elected to stay behind. Andrew was slightly grateful for the assignment, for it gave him an excuse _not_ to think about everything else that was weighing down on his shoulders. Kevin looked like he wanted to protest for more than one reason, but one sharp look from Wymack shut him up.

"Make sure no one tries to pull a mutiny," Wymack remarked dryly.

They headed down the beach, careful to remain out of sight, by the cliff side. Andrew stayed in between Renee and Nathaniel, who began to look increasingly anxious as they approached the empty ship. He could only reach behind him and link their pinkies together, a fumbled attempt at reassurance that Nathaniel still had the good graces to look grateful for.

The vessel, when they finally reached it, was far bigger up close. With a sleek hull made of what looked like polished ebony, rows upon rows of unopened cannons, and no visible name, it looked quite nearly unreal. Andrew glanced up for the flag, which was only a piece of black, silky cloth with the letters H.S. emblazoned across it, along with some ornate design of a shield and swords. 

"Definitely not the Ravens," Allison remarked lowly as they stared up at it.

Renee was the first to begin climbing up the side, careful not to make any noise as she nimbly made her way up for the deck. Andrew was about to follow when he noticed Nathaniel staring at something in the distance. He followed his gaze, hesitating momentarily when he saw the figurehead.

It was the stone statue of a mermaid, one hand reaching out while the other was holding - or being pierced by, Andrew couldn't tell - a blade. The face was marred from years at sea, he presumed, but Andrew could recognize a look of terror when he saw one.

"Tasteful," he said, and Nathaniel jerked slightly. His blue eyes were wide with some sort of apprehension when he met Andrew's gaze.

"Taste _less_ ," he corrected, lips twisting in a scowl.

"Come on." Andrew hoisted himself up on the ropes, waiting until Nathaniel unfroze and followed him. He slipped over the railing with ease, landing with little noise as he looked around.

The deck looked like it was twice as large as the Foxes'. Recently cleaned and polished, it shone almost too brightly underneath the growing strength of the rising sun. When Andrew glanced over his shoulder, he noticed the ornate engravings stretching across the railing and steps. 

Even the sails were freshly patched and fixed. It was almost as if no one had sailed on the ship at all. 

The _Palmetto Foxhole_ was covered in scars and bruises from various fights and encounters - that was what made it the _Palmetto Foxhole_. But this ship - it was practically unlived in. So much so that even Wymack began to look uneasy.

And it was quiet - _far_ too quiet.

Dan voiced their thoughts out loud. "Has anyone ever even used this ship at all?" she asked, looking around incredulously.

Renee turned around, mouth open to say something, but her eyes widened as she focused on something behind him. Andrew's hand immediately dropped to his knife, but before he could even do anything he heard the distinct sound of a pistol being cocked, and then he felt the mouth of a gun being pressed to the back of his head.

"Hands up. Do not even think about getting weapons."

The man's voice was raspy and deep, the words twisted in a foreign accent that Andrew couldn't place his finger on yet. He felt vaguely annoyed that someone had managed to sneak up on him without him noticing, but he complied anyways. There was gun held to his head, after all. 

He lifted his hands off his knife, eyes darting around as he watched the other Foxes undergo the same thing. Renee closed her eyes tightly as a man with mousy hair and dark eyes wrapped an arm around her and held a knife up to her throat.

Andrew twitched in protest, but the man behind him poked the gun harshly against his head again.

"Do not move." Then he whistled sharply, a tune of four alternating notes. It was a signal for the rest of his crew to begin moving in on them, surrounding them on all sides and cutting off any possible escape routes. Before Andrew could do anything else, the man asked, "Which one of you is the captain?"

"Right here." It was Wymack who answered, shooting Dan a look to tell her to let him handle this. She wisely complied, her fists clenched tightly as the woman behind her held her at gunpoint.

The weight of the pistol against Andrew's head lifted for a second as the man motioned with it. "What are you doing aboard my ship? Foxes, yes?"

"We saw your ship docked near ours," Wymack said, shooting the person behind him a dirty glare when they shoved him forward with their gun. "We wanted to check and see if there was anything on it, since it looked empty."

"Ah. So you were planning on stealing." 

"Not quite," Wymack countered tensely. "Just checking things out."

The pistol was pressed harder against Andrew's head. "Why should I believe you? Foxes are tricksters, after all."

Finally, Andrew placed the accent. _British._

Oh, he was so stupid. The ornate ship head. The design engraved onto the side. The flag flying with the shield, the mermaid figurehead, the _H.S._ emblazoned on the fabric.

The Hatford Syndicate.

Nathaniel had mentioned before that his mother, Mary _Hatford_ , was a huntress. And the _Hatfords_ were only the most powerful group of hunters, huntresses, and pirates in the world.

"Oh, hell," Andrew muttered.

"Be quiet," the man behind him warned. Andrew could only assume from the air of authority he exuded that the man currently holding him at gunpoint was the leader of the syndicate. He'd only heard of the man's name whispered with reverence among merchants and pirates alike, but just once was always enough for Andrew - he just didn't know why he hadn't put two and two together earlier.

Stuart Hatford.

As if on cue, someone came forward. Nathaniel's voice, unusually timid, rang out across the silent ship.

"Uncle Stuart?"

Andrew felt the gun pressed against his head slip. A sharp intake of breath, the only indication that the man behind him was surprised at all.

"Bloody hell. Nathaniel?"

Stuart hesitated, and Andrew could hear the creaking of his fingers tightening against the pistol.

"They're safe, Uncle. I promise," Nathaniel said, casting a distressed glance at Andrew. 

Stuart paused only a moment longer, before whistling sharply, the same tune. "Let them go," he said lowly, dropping his gun. Andrew immediately retreated from his grip, stationing himself between Nathaniel and Renee. He turned around and got a good look at the most powerful hunter in the world.

He was dressed in a sleek leather coat that cut off above his knees. His long, dark hair was neatly trimmed along with his stubble; his cheeks were hollow and sharp, his eyes pale gray and darkened with unnatural shadows. A silvery scar ran across Stuart's face, obscuring his left eye and cheek. It almost matched the scars Nathaniel bore.

Then his eyes drifted down to Stuart's lower half, and his own fingers twitched in surprise.

The hunter leaned on an expensive-looking cane, the perfect width and length to disguise a sword. Where muscle and sinew should have been on his right side, there was a wooden leg instead.

Stuart stepped forward. He walked with a limp, but with an air of certainty as well. Heavy, light. Heavy, light. The cycle continued until he was in front of Nathaniel, grabbing his face with nimble fingers. Andrew barely managed to stop himself from stabbing him right there.

"So it is true," he mused quietly, his blank gaze drifting up and down Nathaniel's body, like he couldn't believe he was there.

"What happened to you?" Nathaniel asked as he eyed Stuart's fake leg.

The hunter withdrew his hand, straightening while tapping his cane decisively against the deck. "Little accident," he said shortly. "I was too reckless, but that does not matter. You being here makes things so much more complicated."

"What are you doing here?" Nathaniel asked, ocean eyes wide. "And what do you mean?"

"I am here for revenge that is long overdue," Stuart replied. He pursed his lips, before stepping aside. "But that can wait longer. It seems we have quite a bit of catching up to do, Nathaniel. Come to my cabin." He swept his piercing gaze among the rest of them. "And please, do not try to outfox us again. Next time we won't be so lenient."

Tapping his nephew on the leg lightly with his cane, Stuart limped past him and down the stairs. He was followed closely by the man who had been holding Renee; Andrew assumed he was the first mate. 

"Your family is extremely intriguing," Andrew said quietly as the Foxes looked among themselves, squeezing Nathaniel's wrist lightly.

"I've never seen Uncle Stuart before," Nathaniel said. "I only know about him because my mother used to tell me stories about him. I didn't think - I didn't tell you because I didn't think I'd ever meet him."

Now that it was deemed the Foxes weren't threats, the rest of Stuart's people seemed completely nonchalant, walking around the decks and resuming their normal business. Like this was just another regular occurrence in their daily lives. Andrew thought it was quite possible, from the sheer organization and deft quickness every crew member seemed to possess.

Then he turned, tugging at Nathaniel. "Then why don't we meet him," he said lowly. Nathaniel flashed him a grateful look, before following him down the stairs.

\--

Stuart's cabin was even more ornate, if possible, than the rest of the ship. Almost every inch of the wall was decorated with some sort of mermaid's scale or weapon. Knives and compasses of all sorts hung off hooks. Andrew felt Nathaniel flinch beside him when he took in the decor, the remnants of his own kind. He pressed his shoulder against Nathaniel's to ground him.

His uncle wasn't so delicate, raising his eyebrows as he took in his nephew's reaction. He didn't say anything, though, only waiting for them to sit down before he slumped over in his own seat. His first mate stood dutifully behind him.

Once the Foxes had looked their fill, Stuart began speaking. Motioning at the man behind him, he said, "This is Adrian. My first mate."

Adrian didn't say anything, though Andrew noted the protective hand he placed on Stuart's shoulder.

Wymack was too busy looking between Stuart and Nathaniel to care about the introduction. He asked brusquely, "You two are family?"

"It appears so, yes." Sarcasm dripped from Stuart's voice as he fixed Nathaniel in his gaze. 

They bore no resemblance at all - Stuart was dark where Nathaniel was fire - but they shared the same effortlessly piercing glare.

"What's going on?" Dan asked hesitantly.

"I believe the proper question is: why are _you_ and your lot here?" Stuart returned. "These are the Forbidden Waters, after all. No one comes here on their own volition."

"We were blown here by a freak storm," Wymack answered for them. "Nathaniel helped show us out."

"Did he now?" Turning his chilling gray gaze on his own nephew again, Stuart leaned forward. Andrew felt Nathaniel flinch again, and he pressed their knees together. 

"I did," Nathaniel said hoarsely when no one else dared to move or speak.

"The Wesninskis, with a traitor in their midst," Stuart mused as he sat back. "Your mother taught you well."

This time Nathaniel did recoil, turning away like he couldn't bear to look at his uncle. Done with the dramatics and obvious wound-poking, Andrew growled, "Stop stalling and explain."

Adrian started forward like he was about to shut him up, but Stuart held his hand out. His first mate glowered at Andrew for a long moment, before he stepped back again.

"And you've made friends," Stuart observed, not sarcastically for once. "Good. It may help your cause."

" _What_ cause?" Wymack interjected.

"I take it you must know of the Ravens."

"We do."

"The Ravens, Riko Moriyama in particular, are becoming a loose end," Stuart said thoughtfully, crossing his arms. "On one hand, they are lucrative and famous. On the other hand, they are seated on an unsteady base that is ready to topple. The main branch cannot afford this lack of security, especially when one of them is a member of the head family. Cast off, yes, but still a part of it."

"That prick has always been a loose end," Allison said boldly, speaking for the first time. She was beginning to regain her sharp edge again, thanks to Abby and Renee's support after Seth's death. "I'm surprised this _main branch_ hasn't taken him out already."

"Word gets around slowly," Stuart said, turning a cold gaze in her direction. "Kengo Moriyama is dying. Ichirou Moriyama is preparing to take over. The main branch has been too focused on their shifting power to focus on any of the side branches. Now that it is evident that Kengo cannot be saved, they must take the opportunity now to rid their empire of any loose ends. The Ravens were always due to become hazards to both the main branch's power and reputation."

"So what do we have to do with that?" Dan asked. "I still don't understand why you are even _here_. Your syndicate has nothing to do with the Ravens."

"No, but we have always been tied to their pawns." Stuart glanced at Nathaniel, and Andrew heard his breathing hitch. "I have been negotiating with the Moriyamas. We have been working on a deal of sorts - an alliance. Having the Hatford Syndicate aligned with the Moriyamas will not only benefit them, but it will boost our profit as well. A win-win."

"Uncle," Nathaniel said quietly. The Foxes all turned toward him. Dread iced his voice over, turning it cold in a way Andrew hadn't heard since they'd first met. "You said you were here for revenge. What exactly is that?"

Stuart's lips twitched in a cruel smile. "Our new alliance with the Moriyamas mean that we are to execute a few of their errands as well. Like I said, taking out their loose ends. Your father, Nathaniel, and his empire - they have become loose ends. And I am here to cut them off."

Oh, Andrew thought. Now this was getting _very_ interesting.

Nathaniel looked like he was going to be ill. Wymack looked torn between protecting his own Foxes and fighting what looked like an oncoming war.

"They're letting you do this?" Nathaniel finally asked unsteadily. Andrew linked their pinkies together again, and Nathaniel shot him a grateful glance.

Adrian broke in. "We've been dealing with the main branch for years," he said. "Stuart had always known that the Ravens would end up doing more harm than good."

Stuart reached up, playing with one of the rings on Adrian's hand as he continued, "Now is the opportune moment. But I did not expect you lot to be here as well, which complicates things further. See, you Foxes were not part of my negotiations. But by taking in Nathaniel you have only brought the war to your doorstep. Fortunately, I expect that the Little Lord will want to make an arrangement of sorts with you as well, but I am not sure what we should do with you just yet."

"Coming on our ship unannounced wasn't a very good first impression," Adrian said dryly. Wymack opened his mouth to protest, but Stuart cut him off.

"No it wasn't, but I am sure you meant no harm. You may stay if you'd like. If you do not wrong us, then I have no problem with you. I have explained my intentions to you by now, and it would be best for you to stay put. The Moriyamas don't like having to track people down." Leaning forward, Stuart glanced between Wymack and Nathaniel. "I would like your captain and my nephew to stay. The rest of you will leave now. Do give the rest of your crew my regards."

"I'm staying too," Andrew said abruptly. Nathaniel's breath left him in a trembling sigh as he squeezed Andrew's hand.

Stuart's expression twisted slightly when he saw where their hands were connected, almost going glassy. Adrian raised his eyebrows too, but more in surprise than judgement.

"Andrew," Nathaniel whispered.

"Admirable," Stuart observed, leaning forward slightly. "Admirable, and foolish. What makes you think you have a right to be here at all?"

Andrew spoke without thinking. "He's mine."

Nathaniel froze, his mouth going slack for the briefest moment. Andrew was keenly aware of the Foxes' stares and Stuart's expression, like Andrew had just sprouted two heads, and he _tried_ to find it in him to care - but he just didn't.

The truth was cruel and blunt, but the truth was also the tiniest and most irrefutable thing. And Andrew always spoke the truth, in his silence and his wars, between his glares and gritted teeth and clenched fists.

And maybe he was being a fucking fool, tacking his claim onto Nathaniel, a creature of the sea and a force of _nature_ , whom by definition _could not be claimed_ , but what was a death wish to Andrew but yet another promise?

(He'd felt the humanity in Nathaniel. He'd felt his quiet courage roaring like a storm under the sea of his sharp mouth, felt the distant-but-coming-closer resemblance to _home_ in the merman's eyes and heart and hands).

((And claiming didn't have to mean _tainting_ )).

Then the shocked silence broke with Stuart's surprised chuckle. 

"You have guts, _kid_ ," he remarked. "Creatures cannot be chained like that. Evidently, the Moriyamas have tried that, and failed."

"I am not chaining him," Andrew retorted. "But I won't let you take him away either."

It was Adrian who narrowed his eyes, before turning to the hunter and tapping him lightly on the shoulder. 

"Let the boy stay," he murmured. Stuart stared at them intently for only a moment longer, watching Andrew with such a sharpness he felt like the man was trying to flay him open with his own mind, before pursing his lips.

"Alright then." He glanced disdainfully at the rest of the Foxes. "But the rest of you must leave. My crew can show you the way if you'd like."

Renee stood up first, though her gaze snagged onto Andrew's on the way out. She smiled warmly - almost _proudly_ \- at him, before she pushed open the door and left. Allison was behind her, muttering something about owed money, and Dan closed the door reluctantly on her way out.

\-- 

Nathaniel's mind and heart raced at Andrew's words kept echoing through his mind. Momentarily, he'd forgotten about what Stuart's visit meant, in favor of the incessant - 

_He's mine. He's mine. He's mine._

He should've felt trapped. He should've felt like he was suffocating. It was a merman's worst nightmare to be claimed by a human - most of the time it meant _death._ It meant being skinned of his scales, the most precious parts of himself, and being sold on the market for nothing more than mere profit. It meant being absolutely destroyed, meant the wild sea he harbored in his heart being ripped clean out, replaced with chains and nets and the awfulness of _you-cannot-run._

But strangely enough, he didn't feel trapped at all. Because his heart throbbed with something still awfully _new_ , the cherry blossom warmth and fierce rage of _trust_ that thrummed through his veins. Because he knew what Andrew had done to stake his claim on others - and it all fell back on _himself_ , in the form of undeserved scars and wounds that never quite healed right. 

Because he _knew_ what Andrew's claim meant. 

It didn't mean taking advantage of him or selling him out or hurting him. 

It meant protecting him. And somehow the sea and its caves, and Andrew, Andrew, _Andrew_ had become synonymous with _home._

It was a belonging - another _chance_ \- so fierce it threatened to break Nathaniel apart.

The sound of the door shutting and the sensation of Andrew's hand squeezing his brought him back to reality. Nathaniel blinked through the haze of his thoughts and sudden emotions, hesitantly looking back up to see his uncle fixing him with some knowing sort of look.

(He still couldn't quite believe Stuart was _there_. He'd always been some sort of myth whenever his mother talked about him, like he was part of a world and life she'd left behind entirely when she chose the sea).

((But he was _there_ )).

Any other thoughts dissipated when Stuart leaned forward again, his face shutting down into something so awfully blank and serious he could've competed with Andrew on intimidation.

"Nathaniel," he said carefully. "I need you to understand this."

"Yes," he said quietly. 

"I am here to kill your father." Stuart was as blunt as he was rude and elegant, and all Nathaniel could do was hold back his full-body flinch. "I am here to destroy his empire and everything he ever tried to build. Partly because the Moriyamas asked me to, but mostly because _I_ want to. I have always wanted to."

Abruptly, his uncle stood up. Nathaniel struggled not to feel sick - he didn't know if it was from relief or terror or shock, or _everything_ \- as he limped over to a blank spot on his wall, right above his desk.

"This?" he said, rapping his knuckle against it. "This I have been saving for years. So I can put your father's fucking tail on it."

" _How_?" Nathaniel clenched his fist to stop it from trembling. "No one has ever tried that and survived."

Stuart stared at the wall for a few long moments, before he turned around again. A humorless smile curved at his lips as he tapped his wooden leg with his cane.

"I did," he said lowly. "I failed, but I did survive."

Nathaniel blinked, his heart slowly going cold when he began to put everything together. Distantly, he recalled the conversation he'd heard between Nathan and Lola, about the foolish hunter years ago who was - _just looking for his sister._

"You - " His voice failed him after he struggled to find it twice. " _You_ \- "

"I will not fail a second time." Stuart's eyes were harsh, the line of his jaw tense and determined. 

"He trained and practiced like a madman," Adrian said quietly. His uncle sighed, glancing at his first mate.

"You helped, love," he murmured.

"I did, didn't I?" Adrian pretended to look distraught, though traces of his own cold smile were beginning to show. "That's too bad."

Stuart huffed in amusement, before turning his full attention back to them. "Yes, I am going to kill Nathan Wesninski and everyone who ever tried to follow in his path. And this time, I will succeed."

Numbly, Nathaniel felt Andrew shifting at his side. "You won't touch Nathaniel," he was snarling. Stuart raised his hands in faux innocent.

"Of course I won't," he said. "Why would I? I only wanted to make sure Nathaniel knew exactly what I was going to do."

"If you touch him, I will - "

"Andrew," Wymack finally cut in. Nathaniel glanced at him - he looked on with the tired determination of a man who'd been to war too many times, but was ready to fight yet another one. "He knows."

"I do know," Stuart agreed. "Like I said, your courage is admirable."

"What should we do?" Wymack asked.

"Stay put until I am finished. Like I said, the Moriyamas will want to negotiate with you." Nathaniel caught a glimpse of the familiar cruelty he'd seen in his mother's face before, in Stuart's eyes. "But do not let your guard down. This is a very dangerous time and place you've caught yourselves in. I am glad you decided to take in my nephew - but between the Wesninskis, the Ravens, and the Moriyamas, you may have a very difficult battle ahead of you."

Wymack stood up, his eyes dark. "And whose side are you on?" he questioned.

A slow smile spread across Stuart's face, cold and chilling. 

"Yours," he said.

\--

By the time Stuart let them go, the sun was already halfway through the sky. Andrew stayed close by Nathaniel's side, his unwavering touch a constant, grounding comfort whenever Nathaniel felt like he was about to collapse. They were standing at the railing when he suddenly paused, turning back around.

Stuart was standing by himself at the helm, staring at the horizon. His cane rested against the railing beside him.

"I need to talk to him," Nathaniel said. Andrew shot him an incredulous look.

"We just did."

"By myself." 

A familiar protectiveness flashed in Andrew's hazel eyes. "I don't trust you with him."

"He said it himself. He wouldn't hurt me." Nathaniel reached out, an offer. "I will meet you at the ship, trust me."

Andrew glanced down at his hand, then back up at him, then back down again. Nathaniel was about to _plead_ him to let him stay for a moment, when Andrew reached out and gripped him tightly by the shirt. With a jolt, Nathaniel noticed the flash of familiar crimson resting against Andrew's collarbones.

His scales.

The warmth that flooded through him was enough to vanquish his ghosts entirely, even if it was for just a fleeting moment.

"Yes or no?" Andrew growled.

"Yes," Nathaniel breathed without hesitation. Andrew yanked him forward and kissed him harshly, all teeth and war, before pulling away again, leaving Nathaniel dizzy and weak.

"If you are not back in ten minutes, then I will come for you."

"I promise."

Andrew stared at him for a moment longer, before nodding and letting him go. He climbed down the railing gracefully. Nathaniel watched him leave, before turning around and heading back up the stairs toward his uncle once more.

He stood behind Stuart for the longest time, struggling to think of what to say. The wind rippled the sails, sending the flag flying. Nathaniel wet his lips, clenching his suddenly shaking fists.

"You're really going to kill him?" he finally asked.

Without turning around, Stuart nodded. He didn't seem surprised at Nathaniel's presence. "Yes. The dog cannot bite the hand that feeds it, and Nathan did just that."

"Then aren't you supposed to kill me too?" Nathaniel didn't mean to sound so defeated when he asked the question, but the mere knowledge, terrifying and _relieving_ as it was, that his father was to be _executed_ was enough to loosen his lips a little too much.

His uncle finally turned to face him. He gazed at him with world-weary eyes. For a moment, Nathaniel could see the _real_ resemblance he bore to his mother. The dark, defeated glaze in his glassy gray eyes; the perpetual downturn of his thin lips; the knife-like sharpness of his slim figure. Nathaniel lowered his eyes. If he looked too long and hard he'd see his mother instead of his uncle.

But a small, lifeless smile twitched on Stuart's lips. It was everything solemn and sobering, an ocean no longer halcyon. 

"He killed Mary, your mother and my sister," he said, like it was the least obvious thing in the world. His voice was quiet and low enough that Nathaniel had to step closer to hear him. "You did not ask for this."

"But she fled to save me." Grief spoke harsh, biased truths, and they all poured out of Nathaniel's mouth now. "I'm just as responsible."

"Mary should have known better, yes," Stuart said solemnly. "I kept telling her that she was not exempt from a merman's magic. I told her to be careful, to not listen. To do her job, collect the scales, hunt, and keep the syndicate going. She fell to your father, but she still retained enough of a spirit to try and escape. You were a product of her choices, not the cause. I do not blame you."

Nathaniel had to look away. If he didn't, he was afraid he'd break. Misplaced forgiveness ate away at his delayed grief, wrapping him in a chilling warmth that knocked his bones together. Mary's ghost settled, and so did his.

His uncle stepped forward and placed a careful hand on Nathaniel's shoulder. "According to my rules, I _should_ hunt you down as well. But you are my family, and I have lost enough of that already." His eyes hardened slightly, and his grip on Nathaniel tightened. "Your fight is far from over. Your father will be dead shortly, but the Little Lord is still here. He cannot be replaced."

"Little Lord?"

"Ichirou Moriyama, the first heir." Stuart sighed and removed his hand. Nathaniel felt cold where his touch was. "I told you I managed to ally the Hatfords with the Moriyamas. While your relation to me will buy you and yours a little leeway, you will still need to be prepared to offer a deal. I expect that the Little Lord will want to speak with you once he hears of your circumstances."

Nathaniel swallowed dryly, ignoring the sudden lump in his throat. Dipping his head respectfully, he murmured, "Thank you, Uncle."

Stuart's cane thumped against the floor as he nodded curtly, taking a step back. Together, they watched as the sun crawled painstakingly across the sky, dispelling any lingering clouds and filling the atmosphere with a rich blue.

"I named this ship after her, you know," Stuart said after a few minutes of silence. Nathaniel glanced at him, his breath catching before it left his chest.

"The _Bloody Mary_?"

"It was a cruel joke of mine." Smiling wryly, Stuart ran his hand across the wooden railing. "I quite liked it."

One grave unearthed, and another one settled. Nathaniel murmured with the ghost of a smile on his own face, "It suits her."

"You understand, don't you?" His uncle sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Adrian didn't."

"Adrian," Nathaniel repeated, his smile growing genuine when Stuart rolled his eyes. He felt like he'd missed a lifetime with his uncle, but everything was falling into place now. "So, you and him."

"Great, you're just as observant as she was. She didn't like him, you know."

"He seems like a good man."

"Better than that blond one?" Flushing slightly, Nathaniel looked away. Stuart chuckled lightly. "I see the way you look at him. I looked at Adrian the same way."

"I can't believe we're talking about this," Nathaniel groaned, rubbing his face harshly. Stuart laughed again, this time louder and longer.

"The water is wide, Nathaniel," he said once his chuckles died down. "I'm just glad I found you."

Nathaniel stared at his uncle. He was finally seeing him for the first time.

"I am too," he found himself answering.


	24. crippled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and so the war keeps brewing.
> 
> warnings: character death (you already know what's up), descriptions of blood and injury, some ableist language (can be viewed that way, it's not used in a derogatory manner though), brief panic attack
> 
> unedited so let me know if there is anything egregiously wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> previously: andrew still hasn't resolved his fight with aaron yet. nathaniel discovers a new ship in the territory and goes to alert the foxes. when they investigate they discover it's the hatfords' ship, and nathaniel is reunited with the one and only stuart! stuart explains why he's there - he is to execute nathan and dismantle his circle, as they have become loose ends in the moriyama empire. the hatford syndicate is allied w the main branch now, part of stuart's plot to get revenge on nathan for taking and killing mary. so here we are - 2 months later (sorry)

When Nathaniel made it back to the Foxes' ship, it was Kevin who greeted him first. His face was pale as he stared at Nathaniel like he was a ghost - it made the number tattooed against his cheek stand out even more.

"Is it true?" was all he asked when Nathaniel straightened up to meet his piercing gaze.

"What is?"

"That - " The sailor trailed off, clearing his throat and wringing his hands together. His eyes slid closed for a moment, before he breathed in shakily. "That the Hatfords are killing the Butcher."

Nathaniel's stomach churned and his heart clenched at the mere thought of it. Stuart's declaration hadn't felt real, not even after Nathaniel had spoken to him about it. Hearing Kevin, the same boy who had watched Nathaniel's father tear into his own sailors, say it out loud - it was a terrible mix of terror and sheer relief that turned sour in both their mouths.

He glanced down at where Kevin was gripping his belt, at the silver scars webbing the back of his hand, marring his perfectly tan skin with uneven trenches and cuts. 

"Yes," Nathaniel said, forcing the words out even if they left him dizzy and weak. "He doesn't have long left."

Kevin stared at him for a moment longer, some of the anxiety loosening its hold on his face. Nathaniel wondered what he was seeing just there - a shadow of the monster who'd terrorized them both since they were children, or a broken thing shattered apart by the same disbelieving relief that came after hearing that the _infallible_ were indeed fallible.

Eventually, the sailor nodded, almost to himself, and stepped back. "And the Ravens?"

"My uncle will take care of it." Nathaniel swallowed harshly when he thought about Jean. "The main branch - they want to cut a deal with us. I'm sure Andrew told you about it already."

Kevin tilted his head to the side. "Us," he repeated. 

Nathaniel gazed back at him. His chest was a cesspool of emotions and confusion - but there was one thing he knew for sure. That he was a part of the Foxes, somehow. That even if it was only Andrew who he truly belonged to, he was still tied to the rest of them. That the ocean's cruelest parts he'd been born with were still there, but they were also complemented with the foolish, cherry blossom courage of those humans. 

That he didn't regret tying himself down at all.

 _He's mine_ , Andrew had said. Nathaniel knew - he wouldn't have wanted to become anyone else's.

So he nodded with certainty, something twinging in his chest when Kevin's own lips flickered in the ghost of a smile. "Yes," he said. "Us."

"You're not Nathan," Kevin murmured after a long minute.

They were the first words he'd ever spoken to Nathaniel. The first time had been a question - this one was a confirmation. An almost-promise.

All he could do was dip his head so Kevin wouldn't see the storm of emotions inevitably roaring in his eyes. 

"Thank you," he whispered.

The sound of footsteps heading down the side of the ship had both of them jerking their heads up. Andrew jumped down onto the ground, eyes flickering between the two of them.

"Day, what are you doing?" he questioned instead.

"Nothing." Kevin sighed quietly, though the faint smile was still there. Andrew eyed him as he came to stand by Nathaniel's side.

"Drinks are in Wymack's cabin," he said after a short pause.

"I don't think I need it yet." Without another word, Kevin turned and started heading back up to the helm. Andrew glanced at Nathaniel, the slight downturn of his lips betraying his curiosity.

"Still in one piece," he said, not quite a question. Nathaniel closed his eyes and, after Andrew murmured, "yes," leaned against his shoulder. Tucking his head against the crook of Andrew's neck, Nathaniel was more than happy to let the pirate support his weight. He shivered when he felt Andrew's lips brush against his jawline. 

It was the picturesque calm before the storm. War brewed in the distant horizon, casting a dark shadow over the light - and they were exhausted soldiers. But right there, with the sun melting Andrew into honey and the knowledge that his father wouldn't be much longer, Nathaniel couldn't help but think that maybe spring wasn't so far away from the winter they were in after all.

\--

It began with setting the trap.

Nathaniel watched as Stuart removed one of his knives from his belt, holding it up to the light. The hilt was made of elaborately carved bronze, breaking the sunlight into sharp fractals as he turned it in his fingers.

His uncle glanced at Nathaniel. "This was Mary's," he said quietly, brushing his thumb over a set of three letters carved at the very base of the hilt. "Mary Neila Hatford."

"Neila," Nathaniel repeated as Stuart tossed it up and down a couple times, spinning it in his hands like he was memorizing the weight.

"Yes. Mother was very creative with her names." He tapped the blade against the ship railing, eyes darkening as he stared out at the sea. "This was one of the first knives she ever began training with, and it was the knife I salvaged from her before she - fell to that bastard."

Nathaniel had a feeling he knew what Stuart was about to do, but his uncle confirmed it a few tense moments later.

"He will recognize it." 

"It's dangerous," Nathaniel murmured, like Stuart didn't know already. "He's not stupid. He'll know it's a trap."

Stuart nodded. "I know," he murmured, before meeting Nathaniel's gaze. "But sentiment is a fatal thing. And what would he want more, than to eradicate the remaining Hatford for a final laugh?"

Something cold made its way up Nathaniel's throat, slimy and dreadful, as he thought back to his father's bloodthirsty smile and ruthlessness - things he knew _far_ too well. He remembered the way his father's claws had torn into his own skin, had ripped apart his scales and let them drift to the ocean floor like uprooted blossoms. He didn't even want to think about how his pain must've compared to Stuart's, when he'd lost both his leg and family. It was an agony he wasn't sure he had the stomach to wish upon anyone.

Nathaniel closed his eyes tightly, forcing the gnawing anxiety away. He pushed himself off of the railing as Stuart pocketed the knife.

"I don't imagine you'll want to come along," his uncle commented. 

And he was right. Nathaniel didn't want to go - he didn't want to step into the canoe that Adrian and the others were lowering over the side right then, knowing full-well that there was a chance his uncle, the only trace of his mother he had left, wouldn't return. Knowing that being there with Stuart would mean he was betraying his father, and it would be the last time he could do anything at all. Knowing that there were a million things that could go wrong, that even if his uncle had trained for years, there was always something that could fall apart.

But he couldn't deny the sudden, twisted longing that curled in his chest like a sleeping monster. The want - no, the _need_ \- to see the end of his father. After all the years of torture, of pain, of _imprisonment_ , to see his worst enemy finally - _end_. 

He needed the knowledge that he was free and he was safe - at least for a little while.

Stuart was about to turn away when Nathaniel spoke up.

"I want to come."

"Oh?" His uncle hesitated, fixing him with a searching stare. "I don't think so."

"I can help. I know his habits better than anyone - even you." Nathaniel followed Stuart down the stairs, clenching his fists behind his back to stop them from shaking. "Uncle, I - I _need_ to see it."

"I think you've seen enough already, Nathaniel," Stuart muttered.

"I watched Mary die." It was those words that finally brought his uncle's movements to a screeching halt. Nathaniel felt sick and shaky just saying them out loud, but he couldn't stop there. "You don't think I can watch him die too?"

Adrian came over to them, having overheard their conversation. His eyes slid to meet Nathaniel's for the briefest moment, before he nodded and gently rested his hand on Stuart's arm.

"Let him come," he murmured. "I imagine he needs this as much as you do."

Stuart jerked his head in Nathaniel's direction without looking at him. "I can't risk losing him either, _especially_ not after Mary."

Adrian tilted his head to the side. "He can survive. He won't be involved, but he can watch."

Nathaniel fidgeted anxiously as Stuart maintained his silence for another long minute. His lover glanced over at Nathaniel again, a joyless smile twitching at his lips, when Stuart finally relented with a long-suffering sigh.

"Alright. But you cannot come as a human." Nathaniel could understand his reasoning - it was safer if he was with his own kind for something like this.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not, it was saying goodbye to Andrew that was the hard part.

Nathaniel met him at the pier where the Foxes had docked, Andrew's eyes already hardened with a silent question. He reached out to touch the young pirate's face only after getting his permission, tangling his fingers in his hair.

"I'm going with my uncle," he said. Andrew stiffened underneath him, and Nathaniel hastily continued, "And you can't come."

"Why?" was all Andrew asked, hazel irises flashing. 

"I know you want to protect me, but this is something I have to do myself." Nathaniel closed his eyes, breathing in shakily. "I have to know he's gone for certain, Andrew. After everything he did, I _need_ to know."

Calloused hands came up, fingers clasping around Nathaniel's wrists. His eyes fluttered open to meet Andrew's, hazel melting into deep gold and rose from the late afternoon sun. They swam with the same solidity and fire and brutality that Nathaniel had always relied on Andrew for - he was unmoving and unwavering, even in the face of endless cruelty and fall-downs. 

It was that humanity, that _bravery_ , that settled the cold stone in Nathaniel's stomach. He leaned close, pressing his forehead against Andrew's, breathing him in.

"I promise - "

"No. Don't say that." Andrew's hand moved from Nathaniel's arm to the back of his neck. His voice was edged with steel as he continued, "If something happens to you I will find you, and I will kill you myself."

A lopsided giggle made its way up Nathaniel's throat, one that he smothered against the side of Andrew's neck. The pirate shivered slightly, before pushing him back and staring at him intensely.

"Yes or no?"

" _Yes._ " Nathaniel melted into Andrew's kiss, letting all his fears and apprehension slide away for just a moment as he memorized the feel of Andrew's lips against his. 

It was over too soon, but they both knew Nathaniel couldn't stay much longer. He backed away from Andrew, who reluctantly released him, with the strongest smile he could muster.

He didn't say anything: no goodbyes, no promises. He only held Andrew's gaze for as long as he could, before turning and breaking into a run down the beach.

He waited until the sun was halfway beneath the horizon, until the Hatfords had left their own ships in their canoes, before slipping back underwater.

\--

How do you fool a Wesninski?

_You let him win first._

\--

The fight came in stages.

First was setting the trap.

Nathaniel followed Stuart and his crew for a while, deep enough that even they wouldn't be able to see him. He tracked the way the light rippled serenely through the slumbering sea, keeping an eye out for any sign of his father's followers.

He didn't know how much time had passed before something crashed into the water. Nathaniel whirled around, blinking through a tiny flurry of bubbles, to see a knife sinking through the water. 

Upon swimming closer, he noticed it was the same knife Stuart had. His mother's knife.

Nathaniel glanced up to the silhouette of the boat passing above him. His gills flared, and momentarily, he could feel a faint tug in his gut, when he noticed the blood coming from the canoe.

It was Stuart's. Black in its crimson, melting like smoke into the sea.

They were leaving a trail - one of righteous grief - in their wake.

Darting away, Nathaniel swam in the direction of his father's empire.

Second was the hunt.

It was always a quiet affair, hunting. It was lurking in the shadows, underneath the boats, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Nathaniel knew the process almost as well as he knew the ocean floor, but he couldn't help but feel _sick_ when Lola found the knife.

Her eyes flared, glowing like molten gold in the darkness, when she turned it over in her hands. Her claws, already partly extended, scraped brutally against the metal.

"What is it?" Nathaniel asked, knowing fully well exactly what it was. Lola's head snapped up at his voice, an unnaturally wide smile already scraping its way across her face.

"Oh, your father's going to love this," she cooed. Nathaniel caught the flash of her fangs as she suddenly darted away, leaving a flurry of bubbles behind her. He followed her, forcing himself to ignore the harsh pounding of his heart.

When Nathan saw the knife, he remained so still for a long minute that Nathaniel thought he'd turned into stone.

Then his irises flared up with piercing yellow, hunger overtaking any traces of blue remaining, and his lips curved in a too-sharp smile.

"It appears," he said lowly, tracing his thumb over Mary's engraved initials, "that this fool hasn't learned his lesson the first time."

Lola's laughter echoed through the caves as Nathan let the knife drift to the ground.

His father took his innermost circle - Lola, Jackson, Romero - alongside a few other of his merfolk. Nathaniel followed them, trailing behind as he fought off a nagging sense of _wrong, wrong, wrong._

Not all of his father's followers had been there from the very start, after all. Some of them - Lorraine, Campbell, Judith - had once been sailors and pirates, cruelly transformed into monsters, carved out of Wesninski fangs and claws. 

Like his mother.

The misplaced guilt flooded through him, as powerful as the ocean current. Nathaniel fought not to panic as even he registered the metallic odor of blood - _Stuart's_ \- getting stronger and stronger. But dread clawed its way up his throat like a desperate animal, and he shut his eyes against a split-second decision.

(Andrew's voice echoed accusingly through his head: _martyr_ ).

Nathaniel waited until his father, Lola, and Romero were far enough ahead that they wouldn't hear him, before slipping toward the back where Lorraine and the others were.

"Wait. Don't go there," he hissed, darting in front of them. Lorraine paused her movements, raising her eyebrows at Nathaniel. She hadn't completely transformed yet - her hollow irises were still there in place of hungry yellow.

"Why?" she asked quietly.

"It's a trap." Nathaniel's throat constricted even as he spoke. He was glad it was dark enough that they couldn't notice the minute trembles running through his hands. "Just trust me."

"Nathaniel - "

"It's your chance to be free. Probably your _only_ chance," Nathaniel almost pleaded. "This won't last much longer. Just _go_ , as far as you can, and don't look back."

It hurt him like knives were cutting through his veins to echo the very promises his mother had forced him to make, when they'd attempted their escape, but Nathaniel knew it was for something better. He couldn't just let anyone else who couldn't help it fall for Stuart's trap like his father had. 

He was a fool, he was a _fool_ \- he couldn't save everyone, but he'd managed to save the Foxes. Perhaps he could save them too.

For a moment, they just stared at Nathaniel like they were struggling to understand him. Campbell's gills fluttered as he clenched his fists, the glow in his eyes dying down into a faint tint. Nathaniel glanced between them, over his shoulder to check where his father was, before gritting out a final plea.

"You never chose this. You were loyal because you had to be - but now you can go." Nathaniel let his words sink to the abyss for one more minute, before he turned around and began to swim away. 

When he looked back, they were all gone.

Third came the actual fight.

Nathan followed Stuart's blood trail all the way to shore. Nathaniel hovered behind as they swam about, looking for any sign of Stuart or his crew, searching for the opportune moment to strike. Every time Nathan looked Nathaniel's way, he swore his father's greedy hunger pierced right through his bones.

Something splashed in the shallows. Nathaniel jerked around, ducking behind a formation of rocks as he fixed his eyes on the pair of boots that sloshed through the waves.

It was Lola who attacked first.

Nathaniel watched as she launched herself out of the water, claws out and mouth agape. And the tense silent snapped, a gunshot rang out, and suddenly there were terrible yells and the sounds of swords slashing into flesh - and all Nathaniel knew was that he was watching the end of his own era.

Soon the water turned red - which side the blood belonged to, Nathaniel didn't know. He struggled to shove down his automatic instinct to _go back out and hunt_ , pressing his back against the rock and shutting his eyes tightly.

Perhaps hours passed, or mere minutes. All he knew was that the screams kept echoing in his ears long after they'd stopped, and everything was quiet once more.

By the time Nathaniel had emerged from the water and finished transforming back into his human form, the only figures left on the beach were Stuart and his father. Heart pounding sickly in his temples, Nathaniel didn't notice Adrian approaching him until a hand clamped around his wrist and dragged him away. Barely able to hold back his harsh flinch, Nathaniel let the older man stand in front of him as they watched the scene play out.

Stuart was breathing heavily as he cut away the ropes holding Nathan in place. He tossed aside the net, staggering slightly when the movement offset his balance. Nathan's tail twitched uselessly against the thin, trailing waves as he struggled to breathe, fingers digging trenches into the sand as he stared up at the sky.

Off to the side was Lola's body, unnaturally still and splayed out awkwardly. Nathaniel bit back his involuntary wince when he noticed the way her neck was bent, the way her mouth still hung open in a cut-off shriek.

Nobody else moved except for Stuart, who drew his knife and spun it in his fingers. His father turned his head to the side, icy eyes darting around until they finally settled on Nathaniel where he stood behind Adrian.

" _You_ \- " Nathan broke out into a hoarse snarl, before Stuart silenced him with a harsh punch. Nathaniel jumped, and Adrian's hand shot out to grab his wrist. 

"Look at me, you fucking bastard," Stuart snapped. "He's none of your concern anymore."

Nathan wheezed, "You're a fool. You're a dead man walking. The Moriyamas will never let you go for this."

"They don't matter to me. Not right now." A smile cold enough to rival his father's stretched across Stuart's face as he pressed the knife to Nathan's throat. "You know? I'm not even going to sell you. I'm just going to leave you here to _rot_."

Nathaniel could only watch as his father broke out into a sick grin. Blood trickled from a gash in his temple, dripping between his lips and staining his teeth red. His eyes, carved from the coldest depths of the sea, gleamed with the heavy knowledge of _defeat at last_ , and his gills fluttered uselessly in the air.

"You're too late, Hatford," he wheezed as Stuart's grip tightened around the dagger. "Nothing you do will ever bring _her_ back."

"Don't waste your breath. You don't have much of it left," Stuart snarled, even as his composure cracked slightly. Nathan beamed sickly, pouncing on any weakness he could find, even with death looming over him.

" _Always_ too late."

Adrian stepped forward, face twisted and pained, like he couldn't bear to watch the scene any further. "Stuart - "

The knife was moving before he could get the rest of his words out. Nathaniel couldn't help the strangled yelp that got caught in his throat.

Blood splattered across the both of them, spilling down Nathan's torso in rivulets. It looked almost black, the way it gushed and stained Stuart's clothes, a voracious monster of its own - but there was no mistaking it.

Nothing could be redder than a Wesninski's scales than his own blood.

It was over almost too quickly. Nathan died with a ghastly smile on his face, a wild desperation in his eyes, and a fading gurgle. Stuart just stood there, staring at his body, knife dangling limply from his bloodstained fingers. 

For a blissful moment, everything was quiet except for the rising and falling waves.

And then relief hit Nathaniel so hard it threatened to upend him. He turned away from his father's lifeless body, falling to his knees in the sand, and dry heaved. An arm came around his shoulders to keep him upright - he dimly recognized it was Adrian through the spinning of his head.

"It's over now. You're alright." His voice swam in Nathaniel's ringing ears, muffled like they were underwater. "He's dead. It's over."

They stayed like that for a while, Adrian muttering reassurances, touching Nathaniel just enough to keep him from completely crumpling, while the rest of the Hatfords took their place at Stuart's side. When Nathaniel's head finally stopped spinning, when some of the adrenaline coursing through his veins died down, he let Adrian help him to his feet.

He slowly made his way over to his uncle. The remaining Hatford crew members parted to let him through as he arrived at Stuart's side, unable to look away from the scene in front of him.

The gash across Nathan's throat was perfect - straight and graceful and merciless. Blood sluggishly leaked from it, rolling in fat steams down Nathan's neck and onto the sand. His eyes, once carved from the coldest glaciers and the deepest seas, were nothing but clouded and empty. Staring into space, unseeing. Lips still halfway parted, teeth stained red, the corners of his mouth bubbling slightly with bloodied spit.

It was almost beautiful.

Stuart shifted without a word, bending down on one knee. Swiftly, he slashed away several lines of Nathan's scales, holding them not so carefully in his palm as he handed them off to Adrian.

"The Little Lord will want these," he said quietly. Adrian nodded and pocketed them, reaching out so Stuart could stand. His uncle wavered slightly, before finally turning to Nathaniel.

"Will you be coming back with us?" It wasn't a demand - just an invitation. Nathaniel swallowed harshly.

"Yes." His insides were shaking but his voice was steady. Stuart nodded, accepting his answer without qualms, and turned to the rest of his crew.

"We're heading back." Someone came forward and tossed him his cane, which Stuart stuck into the sand with a heavy sigh. Without looking back, he began heading back in the direction they'd docked their boats. 

Nathaniel made to follow them, but something held him back. Something ached and twisted in his gut, constricting his chest, as he looked back. 

The beach was littered with the dead bodies of his fellow brethren. Nathan's body was only the one closest to Nathaniel. The blood was already beginning to dry against his deathly pale skin, blackening like cobwebs against white. Every now and then the wind would pick up, and his hair would ruffle slightly. Nathaniel half expected him to blink.

Nathaniel was beginning to learn this, over and over again: sometimes the infallible were the most fallible. He stared across the post-war ravages, and felt nothing except the haunting drag of the wind across the canyons of his chest.

"Nathaniel?"

Stuart's voice jolted him out of his reverie. He blinked once, twice, a shudder running its way up his spine. 

"Sorry," he muttered. Dragging his eyes away from his father for the last time, Nathaniel turned and walked away.

He refused to look back, even as Nathan's blood trailed into the sea, turning the pearly foam into rotten blossoms.

\--

Andrew sat out on the plank overlooking the sea, ignoring the way the early morning cold seeped into his skin. The clouds were thick that day - there was probably a storm coming, he thought listlessly - and completely shrouded the sun. 

The ocean was a rolling mass of gray. 

It had only been a day since Nathaniel told him he'd be going with his uncle to "handle" the Butcher, but it felt like years. Andrew's skin crawled with the realization of just _how much_ Nathaniel had managed to worm his way underneath his armor, managed to strike him in all his most vulnerable spots and righted him. The mere thought of Nathaniel not coming back was enough to make Andrew want to dive into the sea and search for the goddamn merman himself.

Andrew didn't believe in regret. That had never done anything useful to him. 

But letting Nathaniel in close enough that his absence was enough to leave a gaping hole in Andrew's chest - _that_ was close.

Subconsciously, maybe, he found himself reaching up to tug at the necklace of Nathaniel's scales around his throat. He brushed his fingers over them - they still felt warm despite the cold, like the heat of summer and _he_ had been trapped underneath.

He closed his eyes, cursed his memory for dragging up Nathaniel's face to pin behind his eyelids. His eyes that were bluer than the sea even on days like this; the war that burned hotter than fire in his smile, between his lips; the rare, private _softness_ , the kisses brushed against broken knuckles, the healing touch. The sea and the sunset that rested together in his heart. 

And for the first time, Andrew didn't want to think about the ending.

Eventually Renee came out to join him. She sat down behind him after he muttered his consent, lightly pressing her back against his. Her touch managed to ground him, fleeting as it was.

A while passed before either of them spoke. 

"He'll be alright, Andrew," she murmured. 

He opened his eyes, blinked when he noticed the sky was just a little brighter. "I don't want your condolences," he said quietly.

Renee huffed gently, tilting her head back so it knocked gently against Andrew's shoulder. "Stuart Hatford is a very skilled man," she said. "There's a reason his syndicate is so powerful."

"Skilled men make mistakes," Andrew countered. "You saw what happened to him."

"But he survived and he came back. Even with a wooden leg." When Andrew didn't summon the strength to reply, Renee sat up. "Duel with me until they're back?"

Rather than answering, Andrew silently stood up. Renee smiled at him brightly, before getting to her feet herself and heading off the plank. Most of everyone else was already asleep as they headed down the hallways. Andrew stopped by his hammock to grab his sword, nodded his head slightly to acknowledge Jeremy when the sailor beamed at him, and then headed off to join Renee in the storage room.

\--

Sweat rolled down Andrew's temple and his knuckles stung with shallow cuts as he parried another one of Renee's blows. It felt like they'd been dueling for hours, and they probably had. He swung his sword at her face, but Renee neatly sidestepped and dug the hilt of her knife into the small of Andrew's back.

"Fuck you," Andrew huffed as she grinned smugly, sheathing her blade.

"Would you like another round, or to take a break?" Before Andrew could come up with anything, there was a rapid knocking on the door. It swung open to reveal Matt, who inhaled sharply like he'd sprinted all the way there.

"Hatford's back," was all he said, and Andrew forgot all about the fight.

Shoving his sword back in its sheath, Andrew followed Matt to the stairs leading up to the helm, Renee close behind him. He barely stopped himself from running up the steps, deaf to the world around him until they finally stopped at the base of the helm.

Stuart was there, still in one piece - at least relatively. He leaned heavily on his cane, his face slack with either exhaustion or glory - or both. Andrew didn't care. He could only focus on _Nathaniel_ \- 

Standing behind his uncle, body illuminated by the soft, scattered light.

He didn't want to think about the - _relief_ flooding through him, didn't want to think about how shaky his hands suddenly felt. Didn't want to think about what he might've done had Nathaniel not been there. He only wanted - oh, he _wanted_ \- to have Nathaniel back in his arms, to kiss him harshly and touch him everywhere he was real. 

The piercing relief in Nathaniel's eyes when their gazes met said the same thing.

Andrew ignored everything Stuart was saying, only heading for Nathaniel. He looked him up and down, only taking his hand when he found no visible injuries. Nobody stopped them as he tugged Nathaniel away, leading him down to Abby's office - not even Stuart bothered looking their way.

Only after the door shut did either of them say anything. 

"Nathaniel," Andrew whispered as the boy began to tremble almost imperceptibly. "Yes or no?"

"Yes." It was all Andrew needed before he was pressing Nathaniel to the bed, cupping his face in his hands. Nathaniel's eyes fluttered as he inhaled shakily, breathing harshly, " _'Drew._ He's gone."

The disbelief that threatened to cleave him open was almost too much. Andrew made a shushing noise, pressing his fingers against the side of Nathaniel's neck, where his pulse shuddered and thumped underneath warm, soft skin.

Nathaniel kept whispering, "He's gone. He's gone. He's really gone," as Andrew checked him over, before trembling fingers made their way into Andrew's hair. "A-Andrew, I'm fine, I just - I - "

"You're not right now," Andrew cut him off. "Shut up. Breathe."

Sliding his hand underneath Nathaniel's head so he could grip the back of his neck, Andrew pressed their foreheads together. Nathaniel mumbled something incomprehensible under him, just barely holding Andrew's face between his quivering hands.

"Breathe," Andrew murmured whenever he felt Nathaniel begin to shake apart, whenever his breathing stuttered too much. They stayed like that for a long while, as Nathaniel broke apart and fell back together, over and over again. Andrew kept his lips pressed against his temple all the while - not a kiss, but a reassurance. 

Eventually, when Nathaniel finally steadied himself, he fisted his hands in the collar of Andrew's shirt. 

"Kiss me," he whispered. 

And Andrew kissed him.

At some point he ended up climbing onto the bed himself, holding himself over Nathaniel as he slid his tongue against his lower lip and bit down. Andrew tucked his quiet moan somewhere deep in his chest, running his hands across Nathaniel's shoulders and ghosting kisses down his neck. 

He couldn't help it. Nathaniel was real, he was _real_ , he was _right there._ And they were wedged in the middle of a storm, but there was war between his lips and something healing in their bodies, in their bones, and Nathaniel could push away some of the warfare within Andrew. And even though he had years of battles weighing down on his shoulders, even though he had ghosts trailing him in all his corridors and hallways - he wasn't completely capsized, nor was he utterly hopeless.

And he thought perhaps he could trust Nathaniel - 

_(He already did, but - )_

to give Nathaniel his most demented parts, and trust Nathaniel wouldn't flay his vulnerability apart.

((He wanted that)).

They kissed heavily for what seemed like hours, until Nathaniel made a quiet, syrupy noise and pulled away. Andrew deliberately ignored the way his lips glistened and looked bright red, instead reaching up to brush aside one of Nathaniel's stray curls.

"Thank you," Nathaniel mumbled tiredly, panting for breath. Andrew shut him up with another kiss, softer this time, and rolled aside.

"Go to sleep," he said, running his fingers through Nathaniel's hair once more and tugging slightly. Staring up at him with wide blue eyes, Nathaniel broke out into a too-soft smile, one that shouldn't have split Andrew open, but did. 

"You too," Nathaniel mumbled, tilting his face so he could gust a kiss across Andrew's palm. He shivered slightly at the feeling. "You look tired."

"Tired of your shit." 

"Mm. Sorry." Andrew narrowed his eyes at Nathaniel's teasing tone, before climbing off the bed. Nathaniel whined quietly, reaching out for him, and Andrew caught his fingers midair.

"Stay," Nathaniel mumbled drowsily. The word, simple as it was, made itself at home right between Andrew's ribs, hugging his heart tightly as he leaned down to brush his lips against Nathaniel's knuckles.

"I'm not going anywhere." The _you aren't either_ was silent between them, and Nathaniel's lips twitched sleepily as he held Andrew's hand close.

Andrew watched Nathaniel as he slept. He curled in on himself like he was trying to protect himself, tucking his knees up against his stomach as he pillowed his cheek with an arm. Every now and then, his eyelids would twitch, lashes fluttering as he dreamed. Andrew could barely resist the urge to reach out and brush his fingers against the delicate sea of veins running underneath Nathaniel's skin. 

It was rather peaceful, with Abby's lantern illuminating Nathaniel in a soft golden halo, with the occasional rocking of the ship, the creaking of the wooden door hinges. It reminded Andrew of the times he'd sneak into Bee's cabin back at the Foxhole Port whenever he couldn't fall asleep.

It was okay. At least for that night, knowing Nathaniel was safe.

_Nathaniel._

He ached sweetly in the way spring hurt as it dug its roots under scars and sinew; in the way blossoms twinged as they flowered in hollow bones and empty veins. He was the soft, slow chaos of falling and trusting, of stuttered recovery.

He was nothing.

He was everything.

Andrew leaned forward, resting his cheek against his other wrist. He didn't know when he'd fallen asleep like that, sitting at Nathaniel's side with their hands still tangled together. All he knew was that suddenly it was dawn again, and Renee's gentle voice was what woke him up.

"Hey," she murmured when he blinked blearily up at her. "Did you sleep well?"

Pain flared briefly in Andrew's neck as he sat up. The movement caused Nathaniel to stir slightly, and Andrew glanced down at where their hands were still intertwined. His skin prickled slightly at the thought of Renee witnessing - whatever this was, but her softly proud gaze soothed the thorns.

"What is it?" Andrew murmured lowly so he didn't wake Nathaniel.

"Stuart has advised that we begin heading out," she said. "It's best that we're out in the open."

"It's easier to be surrounded," Andrew replied. 

"But we also won't be trapped against the land," Renee pointed out. "And the Hatfords will be with us for when the Moriyamas come." The gentle gleam in her eyes shuttered out, replaced by an all-too familiar darkness that Andrew could keenly understand. The determined, gritty resolve of preparing for chaos. 

Then the look was gone, and she was smiling again. "I can take navigating for a bit while you stay here." 

Andrew looked away, glancing back at Nathaniel. Renee didn't need him to say anything else. She only tapped the back of his chair, a quiet goodbye, and slipped out of Abby's cabin.

He sat there, content with just watching Nathaniel, until the latter finally woke up. Andrew let go of his hand as soon as he began moving, eyes scrunching up and then fluttering open as he stirred awake.

"'Drew?" he mumbled.

"Here," Andrew said, ignoring the sudden coldness of his palm. Nathaniel gazed at him as he blinked away the fleeting remains of sleep, before sitting up with a frown.

"Did I - what time is it?"

"Morning." 

Nathaniel glanced down at his hands, chewing on his lip. "It's just - " he broke off, shaking his head. Andrew raised an eyebrow, and he continued after a brief hesitation, "I haven't slept like that for - I don't even remember. Without nightmares or anything."

 _Me too,_ Andrew wanted to say, but he settled for briefly kissing Nathaniel instead. 

"We're making sail," he said quietly as Nathaniel stretched out his legs, swinging them over the side of the bed. 

"Is Stuart still here?"

Andrew shrugged, waiting until Nathaniel got to his feet before moving for the door.

They headed up the stairs together. If it was possible, the sky seemed even darker than it had been before, though the air still felt balmy. Nathaniel looked around, gazing out at the horizon like he was trying to memorize it forever. Andrew glanced up at the helm, where he spotted Renee and Jeremy standing. 

The wind blew them forward as they sailed onward.

At some point Allison came by and pulled Nathaniel away from Andrew, under the guise of "explaining to him the mechanics of ship-sailing." Andrew reluctantly let him go only when he saw the pleasant surprise glowing on Nathaniel's face, and watched as she led him up the stairs to the helm.

Stuart emerged from the captain's cabin with Wymack, followed closely by Kevin. Stuart and Wymack were in deep conversation, while Kevin came to a stop next to Andrew. 

"I still can hardly believe it," Kevin murmured as they watched Stuart and Wymack pause by the railing. Resting his cane against the railing, Stuart tilted his head up to the sky like he was trying to see through the clouds. Wymack had that familiar, half-carefree look on his face, the expression that said he was back in his element - sailing the seas.

"Did you tell him?" Andrew opted to ask instead, jerking his head toward their coach when Kevin glanced at him. 

Kevin tensed for a moment, before sighing. "I'm waiting for the right moment."

Andrew pursed his lips but didn't say anything else. They watched as the two men talked for a bit longer, before Wymack was nodding and turning back around to head up to the helm. He nodded at Andrew and Kevin when he spotted them. 

Stuart stood alone by the railing for a moment, staring at the waters. He looked lost in his own thoughts, eyes distant as he tapped his fingers against the wood. 

After a long minute, Kevin began to head toward the hunter. Andrew followed him, having nothing else to do.

"You're going to have to fight them, aren't you?" Kevin's voice seemed to jolt Stuart out of his reverie. The hunter twitched slightly, before turning around to meet their eyes.

"Pardon?"

"The Ravens." Just saying their name seemed to hurt Kevin, though he endured it anyway. "They're not going down without a fight. I...I know that."

He glanced at Stuart's cane where it was leaning against the edge of the railing. Stuart followed his gaze, raising his eyebrows.

"Why, yes," he said coolly after a minute. "Fights are an occupational hazard after all."

"How?" Andrew couldn't help the twinge of surprise in his chest at the sudden strain in Kevin's voice. There was a sort of desperate gleam in the his eyes, one of a starved, beaten animal finally seeing daylight again. It was the same desperation Andrew had remembered when he and Kevin had first struck their deal. "They're the _Ravens_. They're some of the best sailors in the world."

Stuart looked vaguely bemused. "And my syndicate has the best hunters in the world. Just yesterday we managed to dismantle the Wesninskis' empire. Your point?"

Kevin swallowed silently, wringing his hands. 

"Ah," Stuart said when Kevin didn't say anything else. Tapping his wooden leg, he said blithely, "You mean this."

Hesitant and wide-eyed, Kevin nodded. His voice was soft, not unlike a child's, when he asked, "How do you do it?"

Andrew leaned back and watched as a few emotions worked their way across Stuart's face: amusement, then some twisted form of anger, and then melancholy understanding. 

The captain took a couple steps forward. Without his cane his limp was far more pronounced, and Kevin looked like he was unsure whether he should help him or not. But Stuart didn't say anything, only made his way up to Kevin before holding out his palm.

"Let me see your hand," he commanded.

"W-What?"

"Your hand."

Kevin glanced at Andrew, who only shrugged. Curiosity tickled his chest, waiting to see how this would unfold. When Kevin received no helpful answer, he tentatively reached out with his right hand, before Stuart waved him off.

"No. The other one."

After a long minute, Kevin finally reanimated and followed Stuart's orders, resting his left hand over Stuart's palm. They lifted their hands up, and Stuart observed Kevin's with an indiscernible expression. Then, after a stuttered moment, he dropped Kevin's hand altogether.

"I won't ask who did this to you," he said lowly. "But it's healed alright and should function fine. I don't see why you won't use it, Kevin Day."

At the mention of his full name, Kevin jerked backward like he'd been shocked. "How do you - "

"I've heard plenty of you," Stuart said. "The Raven who went missing. One of the most skilled fighters out of that wretched branch. The left-handed sailor."

Kevin swallowed harshly. "I don't - "

"You have no excuse. You still _have_ a hand, after all." Stuart quirked an eyebrow and began to turn away. It was only Kevin's sudden outburst that kept him there.

"I'm crippled." The words shook like they were poison in his mouth. "I'm never going to be like I was before."

His uncle stopped, and Andrew stared as Kevin trembled minutely, clenching his fists. He continued, "I don't know how to fight anymore. He - _he_ took it from me. All of it." His voice trailed away, the last miserable whimper of a ghost. "All of it."

Stuart's jaw clenched as he visibly thought for a long moment. Andrew took a step forward, before he spun around again.

"Who said cripples couldn't fight?" Stuart tilted his head to the side. "Your hand. My leg. Same difference. It's merely a matter of readjustment and relearning, not incapacitation. You will not surrender to cowardice.

"I know how hard it is. It is easier said than done. I am telling you this because I, too, have fallen and I have lost everything because someone thought they had greater power than I did. But let me tell you this, Kevin Day: no one will pity you more than you can already pity yourself, and you don't want that, do you? 

"You will prove them wrong," he said, a final truth. "You will be more than you ever were before. Because if there's one thing people like us know how to do, it's how to get back up again." 

Stuart's words etched themselves deep into Andrew's heart walls, where understanding and empathy lurked like rare mermaids and deep-ocean light. Where healing and chaos were brothers, where recovery was an elusive treasure he was just beginning to learn how to grasp. And for the briefest moment, he felt his lips beginning to twitch in a chilly smile of his own. At that moment, Stuart caught his eye. Conviction settled in the lines of his face as he steadily held Andrew's gaze, before turning back to Kevin.

"You will be the death of them." Stuart took one step forward, his wooden leg hitting the deck with a loud thump. Dimly, Andrew wondered how the Butcher of the Caribbean must've felt, being taken down by the same one-legged man he'd tried to kill. One look at Stuart said he was thinking the same thing.

The hunter picked up his cane, used it to tap Kevin's left hand, right over the biggest scar running down his knuckles.

"And this time," he promised, "they're going to wish they had taken more from you than just your hand."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (i skipped on the action/fighting scenes bc i'm unmotivated and i'm terrible but worry not there Will be in detail fight scenes coming up,, soon)
> 
> but hey i love and hate this chapter and i hope you guys enjoyed it? i kinda forgot how to write this story its been Long but pls forgive me as i get back into it? <3

**Author's Note:**

> hello all again!! so i've wanted to write this for a while now - it's inspired by pirates of the caribbean. if anything seems out of character, please let me know!! 
> 
> leave a kudos/comment if you enjoyed it and want to see more, and constructive criticism is always welcome!! thanks y'all <3
> 
> check out my [tumblr](https://hi-raethia.tumblr.com/) for concept art of this au and other upcoming stories!!


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